


Diamonds Are a Girls Best Friend

by GunpowderGelatin



Series: The Story Of a Girl [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Aristocracy, BAMF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry Potter, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Female Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Harry is Lord Black, Harry is Lord Potter, Harry is a Little Shit, Heir of Hogwarts Founders, Heir of Slytherin Harry Potter, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley Bashing, Multi, Occlumency, Powerful Harry, Pureblood Harry Potter, Rich Harry Potter, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-08-27 03:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16694221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunpowderGelatin/pseuds/GunpowderGelatin
Summary: What if Harry was a girl? What if that girl was powerful enough to change the world?





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I have this posted at fanfiction.net too, but I'm transferring to AO3 because the interface is better.
> 
> Hope you like it.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived a beautiful princess (not a princess, not anymore, she had become a queen)

She was little, so that her parents often call her their munchkin (Lily loved to read muggle stories, to the complete disarray of both James and Sirius). She was only one year old, but even then, was smaller than most of the other babies her age, including her chubby sand-haired cousin, Neville.

The baby had big green eyes, framed by long curved brown eyelashes, and handfuls of bright red hair in her pale white head. She was born in the last day of July, and her parents were anxious for her arrival, as were their friends.

* * *

 

_Two men were in the waiting room of the maternity of St. Mungos. One was sitting on the furthest chair, while the other was pacing, fast and nervous._

_\- I can't wait Sirius, and she won't let me inside. Last time I tried, I was on the end of a Stinging Hex. You know how she is good with them._

_The oldest man laughed, wrinkles at the corners of his blue deep eyes._

_\- Stop walking around, you will open a hole in the floor. Moony will be here soon._

_James Potter stopped, and look seriously to the oldest Black son._

_\- You think we can trust him?_

_Sirius was nothing but serious when he looked deeply into the hazel eyes._

_\- I would trust Remus with my own life. After all, I trusted him enough to take care of my heart._

_Both men laughed, but the sound was fake and choked._

_Months after, they both discovered the words were as fake as the laugh._

* * *

 

The shape of her face and her other features, in opposite, were alike her deceased grandmother, Dorea Black-Potter, making her Uncle Paddy jokingly call her "daughter" (when she called him Daddy, her Daddy cursed him. Her Mummy and Uncle Moony found it all very amusing.).

* * *

 

_\- She looks more like me than you, Prongs. The purebloods will be talking, you know how gossip runs in the Ministry._

_The animagus dog laughed hard, looking to the little baby in the arms of the wife of his best friend. He was then swatted in the head by an amused werewolf._

_\- Sirius! - Lily said in a mock tone of recrimination - She have James'... James'... James'... Smile!_

_All friends laughed, deep, true laughs that warmed their cold war hearts, and the male Potter looked stunned, as if betrayed._

_\- If she calls you dad, I will kill you._

_\- If she is a true marauder's apprentice, she will do exactly that._

_Both of the men laughed more at the frown in Lily's face (like she couldn't imagine her sweet angel as a prankster), the war forgotten and gone in their minds for that small moment._

* * *

 

In the world that the little girl lived there was a lot of horrors, war, misjudgments and preconceived notions.

The adult people like Preconceived Notions, they call that horrible things "opinions''. But not opinions about how to end hungriness, or poverty, or slavery, drugs, hate, abuse and genocide.

* * *

 

_\- Are you sure?_

_\- Yes, Sirius. You're too... obvious. We can't risk them using Regulus against you._

_Both friends knew that this was only a poorly thought excuse. Sirius was a Black, and Black folk were naturally attracted to dark magic, it was rooted in their cores and minds like vines. Regulus was just a excuse to not hurt the feelings of the oldest, and it was a lie to both of them._

_Just one more lie for the record._

_It wasn't like they were used to fake to themselves._

_\- Peter won't break in any circumstance, I will make sure of that._

_\- I'm sure he will not. I trust you, Padfoot._

_It was one more lie. They both knew it._

_The moment they alienated Remus for the beast he carried against his will, something they promised that would never happen, they stopped trusting every person that crossed their path, which included but even each other._

_Past were the days when they told everything to one another, past were the friendly meetings and laughter over brunch. One of the Order was a spy._

* * *

 

But our little girl doesn't know nothing about IT. IT is the big war happening outside her cradle and outside their pacific house.

Outside the ghostly silver stag that sleeps in her chest, outside the bubbles that her Mom make to see her smile, and the laugh of Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot when they prank Daddy.

It's far away from the fake scowls of her Mummy, and behind layers of love and domestic bliss, even if the laugh of the married couple sounded a little too fake, a little too heavy with worry.

* * *

 

_Peter wouldn't break, they trusted their old friend, as much as they could trust anyone in this goddamned war. But the Dark Lord was stronger and smarter, and could always discover a way to break the Fidelius charm that kept them safe._

(or a way to break Peter's secret out of him)

_They didn't know if Remus was alive, or Sirius, or Frank, Alice and Neville. The last time they talked with any outsider was weeks ago, and their food supply was brought by a Potter elf in secrecy every Sunday._

_Charlus and Dorea were dead since before the birth of their daughter, and their best friends were long gone and hiding._

_Maybe that was a mistake, but everything could be mended after that horrible man was dead and buried, hoping that they were all alive and kicking._

_Hope that wasn't too late._

* * *

 

The news about IT came by an old man, with hair who carried hints of an auburn hair that turned grey with stress and age. His blue eyes were always sparkling behind his glasses, and he had lots of wrinkles, from laugh and sorrow.

The little girl didn't like him; he always sounded fake, superfluous, as he wasn't in the same world as them. Her parents, Mommy and Daddy, were always nervous when the news came by. They had fought in IT, but refused to since she was born.

* * *

 

_Albus Dumbledore was a clever, wise man. But he committed errors, and in one of them, he created a villain, a villain worse than the last one. (who was partially his fault anyway) And now, he just didn't know how to overthrow him. The man wasn't indebted to him, neither had humanity enough to be sane or moral._

_So he researched for months, and discovered an ancient protective rune spell, that could be activated by less than five years old wizard children born in a very narrow and specific lunar circle._

_On the bad side, it would make the child attacked too strong, too powerful. Too inconvenient to his other plans, the ones he planned to put in action as soon as Tom Riddle was gone for good._

_Maybe it would be dead by all the power._

_He hoped so, even if slightly guilty._

_He crafted a prophecy, with a false prophetess and a teenager death eater spy to make a bait to the Dark Lord, and said to himself that it was for the Greater Good._

_It was these children, or the future of all the magic world._

_That night, after he placed the spell in two babies, telling their parents lies he would regret over their dead bodies, he cried himself to sleep for the first time since his lover's demise by his own hands._

_It was for the Greater Good, after all._

* * *

 

Her Mummy was a short and beautiful woman, with auburn hair and green eyes, just like her. Her skin was pale, since before the IT she used to pass all her free time reading or just generally inside. She had a lot of freckles, which make it look a bit like someone had just spilled points of paint in her face.

She had callouses in her hands, and a small scar in her middle back, from when she worked as an Unspeakable and had an assignment in Japan. She also had a the most beautiful smile in the entire world, with a laugh that could illuminate all England at once.

* * *

 

\- _Lillian is so amazing! What did I did to get a woman like that? I must have been a freaking saint in my past life. – The man sighed, dropping himself in the couch like a ragdoll._

_\- We know, James. Be sure of it, we know. Now get yourself out of the seat, you will wrinkle your suit. – Deadpanned Remus._

_The group of friendslaughed. The Potter Heir was_  so _whipped by his soon-to-be wife it shouldn't be even funny anymore (except it was, it_ really  _was)._

_(…) - I knew it from the first year, all that foreplay…. – Started Sirius, in the discourses, tearing laughs from all their friends, and a scowl from a sullen McGonagall trying to hide her tears in a cup of scotch._

_-…. James couldn't stop talking about Lily, all day and all night at school and, when the summer came, by stupidly long letters…... – Said Remus, in his turn, mock disgust in his face as James hid his face in embarrassment._

_-… They were like an old married couple… and now they're one! ... – Peter laughed at his own cheesy pun, and Sirius snorted in his corner, covering Remus hand silently with his, a promise that they would be the next in the aisle._

_-… I always thought it was endearing, even with Mr. Potter being so immature…. – A "Call me James, Minnie", could be heard from the newly married couple table._

* * *

 

Before the little girl slept, Mummy would tell her tales of beautiful dragons and courageous plebeian girls, who fought through false friends and difficult traps, saving the smart (not so much as he think he was) prince in the end.

More often than not, she would sing too, sing the praises of the gods and ancient heroes, lullabies pleading Sandman to take the bad dreams away.

* * *

 

_\- What do you wanna hear today, my little lioness?_

_The mother beamed at her daughter, as she saw the youngster point straight at a medieval story, about Lady Boudicca, who was a barbarian medieval witch who could tame dragons._

_"In AD 60 or 61, while the current muggle governor of Rome Empire, Gaius Suetonius Paulinus, was leading a campaign against the magic island of Mona in the north of Wales, which was a refuge for British magic refugees, that didn't want to be used or slaved because of their powers, and a stronghold of the druids, the Iceni conspired with their neighbors, the Trinovantes, amongst others, to revolt. Boudicca was chosen as their leader._

_The history records that she addressed her army with these words, "It is not as a woman descended from noble ancestry, but as one of the people that I am avenging lost freedom, my scourged body, the outraged chastity of my daughters," and concluded, "This is a woman's resolve; as for men, they may live and be slaves." According to Mathilda Bagshot (great-great-great-great-great grandmother of Bathilda Bagshot), they drew inspiration from the example of Arminius, the prince of the Cherusci who had driven the Romans out of Germany in AD 9, and their own ancestors who had driven Julius Caesar from Britain. The books say that at the outset Boudicca employed a form of divination, releasing a hare from the folds of her dress…..."_

_The redhead always liked powerful woman, liking just one fairytale in her short life: The Hunchback of Notre Dame, who, in core, wasn't even a fairytale, even if her grandma thought so. She smiled, looking at her baby drifting to sleep, safe from all the evil in the world._

_Or so she hoped._

* * *

 

Her Daddy was taller than Mummy, and his skin was darker. Looking at his eyes was liking looking at the eyes of a wild fox, with a trickster shine that always make her Mummy always blame him about pranks (more often than not, Uncle Paddy had set him up just for seeing his face as Mummy scolded Daddy.).

His hair was messy, and black, like a nest of birds. He used round shaped glasses and more often than not was in a old wifebeater and muggle sweats. He used to work as an Auror, who is like a very important magic policeman, and its why his shoulders were always stiff as if he was always ready to combat (but she didn't know that).

_\- Who is my precious little girl? - The baby gave him a toothless smile, closing her eyes. The man smiled, happy, and passed the girl to the man on his left._

_\- Sirius, I want you to be the godfather. - A surprised smile appeared on the older man's face, a shocked expression short after._

_\- Me? Remus is far more responsible…. And I... I am a Black, James… You know what people say about me behind my back: Reckless, mad…. And also what they say to my face. That I am just waiting to join Him._

_James put a comforting hand over the shoulder of his oldest friend, and looked directly into the scared blue eyes, who eyed briefly the package of blankets in his arms, the little human life with big green eyes searching for his own and scorching his soul._

_\- You know I don't care about this bullshit. And you know Remus can never be her godfather, not because I don't trust him, but because the laws would never permit him to be the guardian. We plan to overthrow these laws someday, and then have a child to be Remus'…_

_\- Only if it comes from your asshole, Potter. I'll think three times before get pregnant again. -The weak voice came from the redhead, who layed with her eyes half open, frowning at them._

_James laughed, and walked to his post-birth glowing wife, smiling proudly towards her. Sirius Black looked at the child in his arms, so similar to him, and in the same time, so more beautiful. He knew in his heart, that was his goddaughter._

Daddy used to tell the little girl tales about four wizard friends who turned into animals and pranked very bad people.

Her Mummy didn't like when he did it, and she uses to tell her about a poorly raised teenager who, misunderstood by his peers, was treated like garbage by the pranksters, and ended up alienating his only friend and associating with evil people.

* * *

 

\- _You will not tell her lies, James. You know it's not Severus fault!_

_\- You don't talk with him anymore! He is a death eater, for Merlin's sake, Lily!_

_The fierce woman scowled._

_\- It's your fault too! He never did anything to you, and you alienated and bullied him so much it lead him to the border of suicide!_

_\- I was immature and wrong, but I did NOT force him to go to the Dark Lord. I did NOT draw the mark that he carries with pride. Any good Snape that you knew once is gone!_

_Lily ran from the room, crying._

The girl was very clever at her young age. She knew that most of stories had truth in them, and knew that the tears that dropped from the eyes of her mother, or the regret in the face of her Daddy, weren't made up, weren't because of a tale.

_\- I know we were wrong about Sni-… Snape, Remus. But how much?_

_\- I think it's beyond any recovery now, James. I think we broke a.... potencially good boy into pieces, and he put himself back in the way he knew how, all sharp shards of glass and twisted metal. I think that we alienate a boy who was alienated by his own, and we caused a lack of trust and connections based only in hate._

_The younger covered his face with both hands, dropping his glasses on the floor, the regret overwhelming his whole self._

* * *

 

The family lived in a house, comfortable as it could be for the three of them. It had mahogany floor, and white/light golden walls.

Portraits of castles and waterfalls hanging from above the fireplace and in the sides of the stairs that lead to the three big rooms made the place lively and bright.

* * *

 

_The building was purchased by Charlus Potter, and it was a marriage present._

_\- What do you think, Lily-flower? It's a bit dusty, but nothing that Sparrow cannot fix._

_Lily look amazed towards the house, smiling. Her white marriage dress was uncomfortable, and she knew loved even more her parents-in-law._

_She would hate have to tell her sister to leave the house where they were raised, and where she now lived with her husband and their son, when they were barely trying to get confortable with each other, and was the redhead's by law._

_She kissed James, and he pulled her in his arms, crossing the threshold and carrying her into the hall, while the laugh fullfiled the space and echoed through the emptiness._

One night, the little girl was in the carpet playing with little bubbles that circled her, a silvery doe and a silvery stag playing around her, while her Mummy and Daddy sat in front of the fireplace, laughing to themselves.

* * *

 

They both wore red and yellow sweaters, and forgot for a moment about the stress and everything.

* * *

 

_\- James…_

_\- What, Lily-flower?_

_\- I'm so happy we are here. We, our beautiful daughter… - The man hugged the redhead fiercely, kissing the top of her head._

_\- And we will grow old, and watch her, and any other child we have, marry, and have her own sons and daughters, if they want to._

* * *

 

If they had looked outside the window in that moment, they would saw a human figure, hiding behind a tree. Its face and body were covered by a black cloak, with a hood that only let show two red dots: his eyes, and a sharp smile with pointy teeth.

Maybe they could have escaped.

* * *

 

_\- My Lord… - The Dark Lord rolled his eyes, annoyed by the mere presence of the new recruit._

_\- What, Wormtail?! - ("Couldn't the dimwitted follower backstabber just shut up? He was doing very important things")_

_\- I… I was made the secret-keeper of the Potters, Milord._

_Voldemort laughed high and sharp. He knew the little blood traitor (and now betrayer of his own called friends) would be useful someday._

* * *

 

The figure float, his feet barely touching the floor. He entered the wards, feeling the power run inside his veins and beneath his skin.

Then, one explosive hex towards the door, and he was inside the house.

\- Lily, grab her and go! - A flash of red hair grabbed the little girl and ran towards the stairs, hiding in her room and locking the door with all the spells she knew.

Then, two Patronus were sent, one for Sirius and one for Dumbledore.

Putting the baby in the cradle, she put herself in place for battle. Lily could listen everything downstairs.

\- EXPELLIARMUS!

\- PROTEGO MAXIMUM!

\- BOMBARDA!

\- SANGUI EXPELLUM!

\- GLACIUS!

\- SANGUI GLACIARE!

\- MORTUUS PELLIS!

\- AVADA KEDAVRA!

The silence was deafening, but no more that the muffled sound of her husband falling into the floor, dead.

One tear rolled by her cheek, and dripped on the floor. She could listen the footsteps in the stairs, almost mockingly slow. The door opened with a soft click, none of her spells protecting what was left of the small family.

She could see the face of a man beyond the cape. It was a brown haired, aristocratic one, with no more than thirty years, mad red eyes looking to her, smiling peacefully, as if he was high or drunk.

\- Get out of the way, mud-blood. I have no desire to kill you, just the baby.

\- Please, please, not my baby….

\- Out. Of. The. Way.

\- Please, she is just a baby, she could do you no harm…

\- OUT!

\- Please, not her, not my baby…

The green killing course left the white hand, to the middle of Lily's chest, her body bumping into the ground.

The baby wondered why her Mummy was sleeping on the floor. It must be the green light, one of that spells that Daddy use to put her to sleep, maybe?

\- Oh, you're a clever one, aren't you? You aren't scared of me, little lioness?

A boring look was settled in the eyes of the little girl.

\- It's a shame you bear a power you should never have, I can't let you live…. AVADA KEDAVRA!

The green light bump into the girl's forehead, and she was a little blind for a minute, before the man before her bumped into the floor.

She felt very, very sleepy, and so she never saw her godfather lending her to Albus Dumbledore, or the old man taking her to the house of her aunt.

Dumbledore knew that now that Voldemort was destroyed (and by the little hands of the last Potter), the girl would be the beacon of hope of the Wizarding World.

He couldn't let her grow up knowing she was more powerful and loved that he would ever be, he couldn't let a monster, another villain be raised.

He could not let her grow sly, and cunning, and ambitious, knowing how to use her fame. It would destroy everything, and it would be the demise of everything he ever done to the Greater Good. It was better to have her under his thumb.

So, he didn't let Sirius take the child, neither let McGonagall. He apparated to Surrey, taking the baby, in a nest, with a lot of warming spells, into the doorstep of her aunt, who hated anything magical, and would raise her needing and anxious to comply to be a perfect pawn.

Someone suggestible, weak. Someone he could control, someone he could keep an eye on and manipulate. It was for the Greater Good. The girl would thank him someday.

What Dumbledore didn't know, is that Petunia Dursley wanted a daughter to raise and transform in a better version of herself (didn't matter that she was exactly like her mother: her stunning looks would make it even easier), and Cassiopeia Heather Potter (and Black, but she do not know this yet) was her perfect chance.

The wizarding world wouldn't know what was coming for it.


	2. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia guides Cassiopeia through life and manners.
> 
> Maybe she is falling in love with the girl a bit, but nobody could blame her.

Petunia waked up to the sound of a small cry in her doorstep.

She always had been an early person, sometimes waking before the sun, even when she worked outside ( _before Dudley, and the news that she could never had another child, because her uterus was damaged beyond repair. It seems to be the right decision to enjoy her only son's childhood_ ) as a lawyer ( _still resenting her sister, her perfect life and her perfect uterus_ ).

The sweet cry was obviously a baby ( _and where nothing like the annoying screams of her adorable Duddykins_ ).

She jumped out of bed, not even careful enough to not wake up Vernon, and ran down the stairs like she was a teenager again, her blonde hair in a mess of waves behind her ( _she never went out without it being in a delicate intricate bun, and it fell like waterfalls of gold in her back_ ), and her barefoot feet avoiding the toys all around the house ( _too tired to clean everything, she left for the other day_ ).

She slides by the rug, and with shaking hands (" _Maybe my wish has finally been heard? Maybe this is the little girl I longed for so long? Maybe someone out there is looking for me, after all"_ ), she unlocked the door.

Wrapped in a nest of warm colorful blankets, was a baby exactly like her sister. It didn't remember, nothing at all, her father ( _he was a quite remarkable man, and she had only saw her brother-in-law one before_ ).

A letter was clutched in her small hands. Her. It was a girl. Her niece.

Still shocked, she picked up the letter, reading it numbly. Her loved Lily was dead, and she didn't have the chance to say goodbye or sorry for all that past years in their childhood ( _even if she tried, she wrote so many letters but nothing seemed right_ ).

But, in her front, was her chance of redemption. Her niece, Cassiopeia. Her niece, and now, she knew, her daughter too. Lily putted that child into the world, a small blessing for her sister. And she would create the baby like her own, would raise it like the Lady the family of her father would want her to be ( _he was a remarkable man without doubt, and his lordship was marked everywhere_ ), the powerful woman that would need only herself.

She knew Vernon would do anything for her, including take this child ( _and, on the depths of his heart, he wanted a daughter of his own too_ ).

Picking the girl in her arms, and hugging her next to her chest, feeling the soft beats of her hearts, her small hands clutching her hair, the green eyes looking right back into the woman's soul.

She knew. She knew right then and there that no harm would come to this child, and the baby would be someday the most intelligent, powerful and beautiful witch that the idiot wizard kind would ever see ( _they were medieval, seriously, they need a shock of reality, robes weren't a thing since the XVII century_ ).

She climbed the stairs, and saw, on top of it, her husband. He was starting to gain a few pounds, and in held no resemblance to the muscled quarterback she met on Battersea College of Technology.

His once strong jaw gave place to layers and layers of fatness, because, in majority, of his bad habits and horrible work-time in Grunnings ( _worked far too much to provide their family a good life_ ).

Her husband sleepy face changed into a wide-eye look in mere minutes. Vernon was not dumb, despite the appearances. He figured out, he was at the wedding after all. The red hair wasn't common, neither that bright, full of power, green color in the child's eyes.

\- We are going to keep her. – Petunia said, with a firm tone that didn't admit arguments – Cassiopeia is my _sister's_ , my deceased sister, only heir and prole. She doesn't have anybody in this world or in her parents', and I will not drop her elsewhere. – After she sees her husband still not convinced face, she continues - This baby is getting Dudley second room, after a good reform. You know that I've always wanted a daughter, Vernon. And deep down, you want one too.

\- She is not one of these…  _freaks_ , is she?

A loud clap was heard, and then Vernon's left cheek had a red mark with a delicate hand shape.

\- Don't dare call my sister a freak, or her prole, or any of her associates. I committed this error, I'm not doing it again. She was killed trying to stop a madman to kill all people who doesn't have a magical lineage, and I suppose that means lordship, and are magical themselves. This girl, Vernon, this baby in my arms, is the only survivor of more than one lineage, the only survivor from a  ** _MASSACRE_**.

The man looked taken back, and Petunia put her hand in her mouth noting that she had just shouted the last word, high enough for anybody in the street to hear.

So, the woman shook her head slightly, and walked to their room, putting the girl, who had a curious look in her face ( _Cassiopeia wasn't familiar with screams_ ), in the bed and going to Dudley's room: The boy had just started crying.

Passing by her astonished husband in her way to her son's bedroom, she scowled.

\- And no harm should come above her, and no prejudice. Neither any lessening or bad habit. She will be a perfect _lady_ , and a woman of her own kind. _I'll prove to the Wizard Dumb World that I'm better than them, even if I lack magic_. If you try anything Vernon, if you even ever look her in a wrong way, I will ask for divorce, and you know that this house is mine, or better, _hers_ , and the law will be on my side about Dudley's guardianship.

To say the man was scared, if not a bit angry, was an understatement.

**_(Six Years Later)_ **

Cassiopeia is now eight years old. Her hair, filled with her magic, was now almost touching her thighs, soft curls making it look angelical.

Petunia never had cut it, because in Lily's journals, founded in the attic during her search for more information, there was a passage about a wizard pure blood custom that said the magic of a witch resided in her hair, and it was a sign of nobility and power never to cut them ( _it explained why Lily's hair was so big_ ).

The older woman also knew that the wizard world was full of bigotry and hate, if the scowls that she received at Lily's marriage meant anything. Maybe a sign of the "old ways" ( _and a lot of etiquette and basic lessons about their world_ ) would make them more favorable to a "half-blood" ( _and why the books in Lily's old trunk talk about people like they were horses?_ ).

She was a smart girl, and knew how to read and write already, with a pen and a quill ( _her aunt make sure that was so_ ).

Petunia was teaching her ( _and trying with Dudley_ ) how to behave while eating, how to be a good hostess, how to sit and talk ( _and make a mask to cover her deepest secrets, manipulate the words and discover things without it being too obvious, but that lessons were not spoken out loud)_.

Cassy was in piano, harp and singing classes, and her aunt was planning to put her in flute or violin this year ( _maybe even the oboe, although it wasn't the usual instrument for a lady_ ).

She was also in several dance classes ( _waltz and ballet_ ), and with the money send to take care of her, Petunia payed not only a good primary school, but all this private lessons too.

This year, the blond woman also would be sure to put her into swimming classes, and running team ( _she had to keep in shape, magic wouldn't be enough to save her from everything_ ). While that was happening, she was teaching her, the best she could, about the magical world.

Lily didn't leave a lot of books, but she did leave all her stuff until third year, introductory books for muggle-borns, and rests of potion's kits, quills, parchment and ink.

She leaved a lot of journals too, with instructions and detailed descriptions about Diagonal Alley, Hogwarts, Gringots and Hogsmeade.

The redhead also left a lot of moving pictures, an entire album. Some of them showed ( _a lot of times by accident_ ) a group of four boys, one that Petunia recognized as James, and another who share some, to not say a lot, of similarities with Cassy, and if the older woman wasn't wrong, was the best-man of her parents, and two sand haired man.

The taller had scars in his face, while the shorter looked a bit scrawny, and constantly afraid. The caption in the pictures usually said " ** _James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, Marauders Extraordinaire_** ".

Also featured a lot of pictures with Lily in her red and golden robes [ _the four-house system looked a bit prejudiced. Petunia wondered whether separating children by such adult characteristics (many of them still would not have developed such traits at age eleven) made them into caricatures or if made them even more propitious to manipulation.  She was starting to think it was both_.].

The boy who was often by her side used green and silver robes ( _the woman was not at all surprised that Lily had seen through the layers of rivalry based on… well, based on the rivalry of two old, dead and buried mans_ ), and she remembered him from the neighborhood.

He was the one to tell Lily everything about magic. The tag above his pictures were named with " ** _Severus Snape, best friend extraordinaire and half-blood prince_** ", often with a date too, or at less a year.

In the pictures, often other people appeared: a girl with a pixie-like hair who always appeared with a studious looking guy ( _" **Alice and Frank, it took you long enough!** )_; a slightly older redhead couple ( _" **Prefects Molly and Arthur, they will be great parents someday** "_); three or four years' older twins (" ** _The Prewett Twins, seventh years and up to something_** "); a blond couple, with greyish blue eyes (" ** _Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy, they don't see too prejudiced now that Severus presented me_** ")

A girl with curly black hair and violet eyes hugging sideways a brown haired older teenager girl, a bored looking younger boy in the middle of them. The blond girl and the best-man of James were there too (" ** _Sirius gave me when I asked about his family. Narcissa Black, Andromeda Black, Bellatrix Black, Regulus Black and he_** "); another blond couple was featured, with a brown haired boy always smiling in between and the older teenager from Sirius' family (" ** _The best of friends: Ted Tonks, Andromeda Black, Xenophilius Lovegood and Pandora Malfoy. I bet Lucius and Bellatrix aren't happy with the developments"_** ).

Petunia snapped out of her thoughts as heavy footsteps came from the stairs. Behind them, lighter and smooth small steps followed.

\- Good Morning, Mom! – The voice of her son was too high, and he was getting fat, like his father. She repressed herself of correct the child in front of Cassy, or Dudley could get envious of her.

Cassiopeia Heather Potter was everything Dudley Dursley wasn't. She was polite, tidy, refined and always talked in an audible, paused and educated tone. She dedicated herself to learn and practice.

Had just a few friends, maybe because she was too advanced for her pairs. That didn't make her depressed or repressed, she played like any normal child, and laugh with the same cartoons that Dudley (just so much more polite)

\- Good Morning, Aunt Petunia – Said the girl.

Unlike Dudley, who was in his pajamas and slippers, she had showered up and was dressed in a blue summer dress, a white ribbon avoiding that her hair obscures her face. A pair of perfectly polished black patent-leather shoes matched the short white socks, and on her neck, a blue medallion that once belonged to her maternal grandmother hangs.

She never taught the redhead to call her mom. It seemed to be disrespectful to Lily's memory.

\- Good morning darlings. Sit down, the breakfast will be ready in minutes. What are you going to do today? – It was Sunday, neither of them had class, so, if their homework was finished, they could do whatever they want, if they didn't leave the neighborhood.

\- I´m going to read, and practice some ballet in Chandler's house. Duke and McNamara will be there too, and maybe Veronica. Then maybe we will watch some Disney' movies. – Cassy smiled to her aunt, while Petunia put some eggs with toast and jam in her plate.

\- All these girls named Heather, I´m sure their fathers are up to something with this. – The three Heathers were daughters of rich man, and lived near the Dursley Family in big houses.

They were as close as sisters, Chandler being the obvious leader. They, and Veronica Sawyer, had ballet classes with Cass, and she was like an unofficial Heather too, seeing her second name was, indeed, Heather. – And you Duddykins?

\- Mum, don't call me Duddykins! – She laughed briefly to his protest, and a soft laughter was hide by the sound of orange juice being carefully dropped in a cup – I´m going to play videogames with Polkins!

Mentally, Petunia scowled a bit at her son's choice of acquaintances ( _and at his loud voice)_ , but again, didn't say anything.

\- And Cassy, we are going to have a talk about your piano's teacher hair. - There was a smirk in the face of the girl, and even Petunia couldn't help but think that the old grumpy lady did deserve the blue hair.

And as the days past by, Dudley turned even more like his father, and Cassiopeia could be confunded with royalty, the perfect lady.

Petunia loved them both, but grew closer to the girl, teaching her anything that could help her. Vernon in most ignored the girl, and praised at his son with fury.

It was Cassiopeia birthday. Her cousin had been five weeks ago, and he had won a lot of gifts, about fifteen. She knew what was coming for her, too, like every year ( _they coudn't really hide anything from her_ ).

Her hair now was in the middle of her thighs, and her skin was smoother and whiter (she didn't like the sun). To the grand day, she was dressed with a purple summer dress, white silk short gloves and socks, a pair of velvety black shoes, with low heels.

A white lace secured her hair in the base of her head, something she learned from the Little Mermaid, her favorite Disney movie ( _even, after memorizing all her mom's books by heart, she knew that mermaids were nothing like that, more like fish than like men)_.

She knew she would receive six wonderful dresses of her aunt (three for summer, three for winter), more gloves and socks and shoes and ribbons, made of fur, velvet and leather. She had seen the beautiful fur black coat her aunt bought in the name of her uncle ( _with his money, too)_.

Also, she would receive a pet ( _probably a magical one, when she receive her letter_ ). She saw books too, and a kit of light make up with a big hair brush.

And, yes, after all, the Hogwarts letter. Her introduction to this new world ( _although her aunt didn't have problems teaching her, she didn't want to enter the place who reject her and risk feel envy of her niece_ ).

When she entered the living room and saw the owl, she smiled.

**_And this is the start of our story._ **


	3. Send Me a Thousand Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Cass react to the letter? How will she shock The Wizard World?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm just a beginner, this is my first story, and I don't speak English fluently, but I'm trying really hard (leave reviews and ideas to improve, and things you wanna see too).
> 
> Also, who do you wanna our little girl with? Maybe George (I'm a huge fan of shini-amaryliis), or Draco? Even maybe some other older Weasley. or Cedric. Of course, just above third or fourth year.

Cassiopeia Heather Potter, for all we saw until now, is a very well behaved girl, with perfect manners, also clever and the apple of her aunt's eye.

This is the girl by the point of view of her family and by most adults around here. But a quick look into her mind and you will see she is much more than that.

Her education made her understand The Wizard World, and want for change, but also, she saw the precepts of hatred by those of muggle blood scattered among the pure ones.

That doesn't mean she is a radical purist, being not a hypocrite like Voldemort, but a grey person who could see muggle-borns being killed by the crime of murdering the witch culture, its holidays and customs, and substituting these for its feeble imitations.

As noted by the girl, the newly presented to this new world are not taught its ways or mannerisms. They think they have the right to impose their thoughts on all things, that the world without magic and with it are equal, that creatures and men have the same minds and laws.

His own mother thought it fair that any magic that could be used to seriously injure a man, any slightly dark or blood-based spell, should be forbidden to be casted.

She clearly did not consider the effects of a simple Wingardium Leviosa used with bad intentions, or the use of Imperius to stop a man from suicide.

Cassy observed that yes, there were some good muggles, and there were some born of these more persevering in understanding and accepting rituals and rites of passage, heritages and creatures ( _such as Anna Pavlova_ ), but such people were treated as outcasts on either side.

She also knew that she should make connections with both sides, and distance herself as much from the Headmaster, which meant more pure-bloods in high position (and with little or no respect for the meddling fool) on her side to keep the old coot from interfering with things that did not concern him.

But let us put aside the views of the young woman (she wasn't a child, not since Voldemort) for a while, and return to the present.

The girl came down the stairs a little more bouncing in her footsteps. The owl of the towers looked rather arrogant, but held out the letter to him; The younger Potter did not care much for the disdain of the animal, and broke the wax seal with the school symbol (this one already known many years ago, since his mother's letter was in the bottom of her trunk).

  
" _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_   
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,_   
_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress"_

Finishing the generic words, she had read millions of times before (every day before bed when she was younger, and every day she felt frustrated about her studies, not having a wand to practice what she knew how to pronounce by core or by her idiot classmates), she smiled. Her time was coming soon, and it would be totally awesome.

The young woman raised an eyebrow, thinking it was unnecessary (and perhaps haughty and preposterous) to quote all the Headmaster titles, since those raised in the magical world knew them, and those born between non-magicians would not understand them or their relevance, increasing them and giving them more or less than they deserve.

Also, the Deputy Headmistress probably had more than one title, seen her position, and none had been placed, proving that names unrelated to school were dispensable.

She continued the letter, shaking her head.

" _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_   
_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_   
_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_   
_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_   
_4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_   
_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_\- The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_   
_by Miranda Goshawk_   
_\- A History of Magic_   
_by Bathilda Bagshot_   
_\- Magical Theory_   
_by Adalbert Waffling_   
_\- A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_   
_by Emeric Switch_   
_\- One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_   
_by Phyllida Spore_   
_\- Magical Drafts and Potions_   
_by Arsenius Jigger_   
_\- Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_   
_by Newt Scamander_   
_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_   
_by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_   
_1 wand_   
_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_   
_1 set glass or crystal phials_   
_1 telescope_   
_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl **OR** a cat **OR** a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE **NOT** ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus_

_Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_ "

She then climbed up the stairs, fast enough to not be late for breakfast, but slow enough so she could be gracious.

Picking up a booklet and a blue pen (even her calligraphy with quill being perfect, she still found it very impractical), she wrote down a brief list of all the materials she would need (and some extras such as everyday robes for out class moments, vests for balls, enchanted shoes, dragon-leather boots, a black silk cape, more books about pure-blood culture, a sheath for her wand, between others), but did not mind copying the books.

She knew her father's family was rich, but would not abuse the money on things she already had (not to mention that the books had notes at the edges of the pages, potion improvements, and better ways to hold the wand).

Feeling bold, she took a piece of parchment from her mother's trunk, one of the last ones, and a quill with a last half-ink bottle, writing a quick reply to the deputy headmistress, knowing that this information (that she knew the and had access to the wizard supplies, and knew how to use them) would reach the ears of the man who had left her there without further explanation.

" _Madam Deputy Headmistress, Dear Lady McGonagall,_

_As you probably know, I am a ward of my aunt, Mrs. Dursley (nee Evans), since the death of my parents, Lord and Lady Potter, though (due to the scant information given by my aunt, who has little information on the wizarding world) I have a magical godfather and it would be his duty to create and teach me my duties as Lady Potter (and any other inheritances that fall under my responsibility)._

_As he didn't raise me, I am to suppose that he cannot, being dead or otherwise alienated from contact._

_My aunt did her best, but I cannot force her to have direct contact with the world that took her sister away._

_So, just as it is the policy for all muggle born or raised as one, I ask you to send, if you do not mind, a teacher to take me to Diagon Alley._

_I will not take much of your time, since I just need an escort to come and go, but once I'm there, I know what I need to buy and where I need to go (also, for everything I read, the Alley is safe for children)._

_All the best wishes for you, and that your line grow and flourish,_

_Cassiopeia Heather Potter, Heir Potter"_

The young woman went down the stairs, the parchment rolled up and bound with a black ribbon of silk, tied to the owl before it flew in boredom (or frightened by her uncle or Dudley, the two had terrible manners and could frighten the bird even unwillingly).

As soon as the grumpy animal flew, she headed for the kitchen, where her aunt was already preparing breakfast. Her presents were on the table, square packages with large colored bows, and the coat she had seen in the guest room before she came down.

\- Good Morning Aunt Petunia – she smiled widely to the woman who raised like a mom.

\- Good Morning, Cassy! And happy birthday, my little now formal witch! – she sang talk, putting a pile of pancakes on the table, the design of a wand with flicks of blue magic (blueberries) made with chocolate on top of them.

\- Nice drawing, since you said that I went back to work eventually, who knows, would it be good to invest in design? – The older woman always had been great at drawing - And since you mention that, I have great news, Auntie. - The witch smiled, cutting her breakfast into triangular, equal pieces. - My letter has arrived!

\- And you answered it? – Turning to off the oven, she turned back to the girl.

\- As soon as it arrived. I was extremely educated, as you taught me, but I made it clear that you omitted nothing from me, and that I understood my lineage. I implicitly meant that I knew where I should be and that I would not be a puppet, nor a stereotype.

\- You did well. It is past time that old man interfered with the lives of students, and of those who are no more (or yet). - Her words sounded harsh, but she still remembered the patronizing tone of the letter of denial she received at age twelve.

She also knew that who supposedly protected Lily and James was the old wizard, and apparently his sister and brother-in-law were foolish in doing so, since they died after a year of hiding.

\- I know your parents were dead people walking, and that they had to gone into hiding, but even after all this years, I can't believe who they choose to protect them.

\- My parents were like sheep. I love them, and I know they would be pleased with who I am today, but am I a very bad person to imagine that their death was for the better? – Her aunt frowned, but shook her head in negative - They, and possibly me, would have been sheep guided by a blind fool. And maybe they would be pleased with themselves, but I would not. And I'm not Angelica Schuyler to give up my happiness for the other.

\- And you would be a dead girl walking, ready to die for a cause that is controlled by a senile man. I don't think anybody would be satisfied by that.

Both of them laughed, Cassy eating her food slowly while her aunt served herself and put orange juice in the table.

\- Quitting with the references, you win. But anyway, you watched musicals long before I dreamed of being born, of course you would be better at quoting.

\- It was not I who watched Hamilton more than thirty times. – Her aunt smiled, cunningly.

\- It's the Heathers fault, not mine! – She said, in a mocking offended tone – Talking about than, well, I'm happy I'm going to Hogwarts. They started to sneak some cigarettes from her dads, drink, bullying other kids and swearing. We're just eleven, but they wanna to make out with boys, and I heard I few rumors that Heather Duke was seen with a ninth-grader, making out. She is just twelve!

\- You know better than believe in gossip – Scowled the older woman – But you're right, I do not think girls with such habits are a good companion for an heiress of respect, let alone in the traditional magical world. They still despise single mothers, for God's sake.

The rest of the meal was passed in a comfortable silence. That is, until a clumsy black owl enters through the window, making a great noise. Tied to his paw with the same ribbon that Cassy had sent her reply, there was a parchment. The girl untied the letter and began to read its contents aloud.

" _Heiress Potter,_

_It is with great pleasure that I hear your affirmative to join our school. We did not expect you to know the magical world, given its location, but since you know it, we will be changing the plans for your visit to Diagon Alley a little bit._

_Initially, we would send Hagrid (Hogwarts Keys and Land Keeper) to guide you in your shopping, but since you will only need an escort to come and go, we will send Professor Snape, from Potions. He has issues to deal with in the alley, and will set time and place to meet you at the end of the day._

_He will be at his house tomorrow at noon, and warn him in advance that he is not a very patient man._

_May your family grow strong and successful,_

_Lady Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress"_

Silence perpetuated between the two women for a few minutes. Petunia then, after some thought, remembered who Snape was, both from her sister's photo albums and from the few flashes of her childhood and adolescence.

\- Professor Snape was his mother's friend, and if I remember correctly, and I can not guarantee I remember correctly, since I was blinded by jealousy at the time, he was deeply in love with your mother. - She forced her memory a little longer, recalling more recent events - They were not in the same house, and I did not see her mention it from her fourth or fifth year. Shortly afterwards, she only talked about her father, but I did not see her future teacher at her wedding either.

\- I hope he does not have posthumous rage from my parents. Or a necrophiliac love for my mother, since I'm pretty much like her. Things would get weird quickly.

\- If he is inappropriate to you in any way, whether it is offending you by a family you have never met or attempting to approach sexually, you will report it immediately, seek Student Defense, School Board of Governors, Ministry, if you need, but will not let him dishonor your name or you. Do you undestand?

\- Yes, Aunt Petunia. I will not let anything or anyone go over me. I do not doubt also that Hagrid, whoever this is, would be sent to alienate me, perhaps speak evil of what is considered dark, while crying out the goodness and power of Dumbledore.

They ate a bit, quiet, rummaging the thoughts and ideas of what it could be.

\- Perhaps this Professor Snape, being Slytherin, if I remember the photos well, is being sent to show me a worse image of his house, acting badly for me to distance myself from this, or to spy on me and find out exactly what and how much I I know, so Dumbledore can do damage control.

\- I think can be both. In fact, I think that this man could go any lenghts to manipulate you. I was not much older than you when he sent me a despicable letter saying that I, as a non-magical person other than my sister, had no right to study at Hogwarts. He was right, but I had no mental problems and he did not have to spend three pages in a condescending tone explaining this to me. - She sighed, the memories were not in any way sweet

\- I think I did a great job of creating you as a good person. And as much as I consider you a daughter I never had, would not it be more appropriate for a witch in her position and fame to be raised by other wizards, among other such children? And, well, his godfather, being magical and, I suppose, if the captions of his photos are saying indirectly that his relatives despise muggleborns are any indication, pure blood, would not have fought for your custody?

The girl sighed, finishing the breakfast and putting the letter in the pocket of her dress, taking her plates and putting them on the washing machine.

\- I suppose Uncle Vernon left early with Dudley for the usual fishing and we have the house for a week?

Cassy had no illusions that her uncle liked her. He, for the most part, avoided the child like the plague, and barely exchanged his usual morning greetings. He drove her to school with Dudley, but he spent every trip talking to his own son or staring at the road.

When she was younger, she tried to attract the attention and approval of her uncle, going well in all classes, being perfectly polite or giving in to all her cousin's wishes (usually to freeze their brains in the nearest 7Eleven).

Then (seeing that acting like her aunt had taught her was pointless), at a time she did not feel the slightest pride of passing, she tried to act more like Dudley.

She spent all the time playing video games she hated and found boring, trying to play football or baseball. The girl spoiled her notes on purpose for a semester and ate like a pig.

This did not gain any attention from his uncle, only his aunt's disappointment. And the detachment of Veronica and Martha, her only friends before that.

When she returned to her senses, she entered into a verbal quarrel with Dudley, out of sight of her aunt, which took away the little approach they had acquired in the period where she was basically his lackey.

The demon king of primary school has decreed it, he had said Monday, 8 am, she would be deleted. They would hunt her down in Study Hall, stuff her on the wall, thirty hours to live. How shall she spend them?

So she thought that she didn't have to stay and die like cattle, without anybody help. She could change her name and drive up to London. But she didn't own a motor bike, and knew that would change nothing.

Wait, here's an option that she liked: Go to the Heathers, three girls who were ascending in the social pyramid of school because of their wealth and beauty.

It was a clever way to divert Dudley. She used beautiful words to flatter the vain girls, showed her notes and how good she was in ballet and music, and that she could make them year-round and win favors from their parents. She told them gossip and blackmail against popular people (including Dudley).

That, along with her middle name, which was Heather, was enough for her to become an unofficial member of their little group, which kept her safe from her cousin and his bullying.

Cassiopeia despised the Heathers and knew that what they did was nothing more than a subtler version of what Dudley did, but the school is a jungle, and she needed to survive.

She was not good at sports, and, being very pretty and very good at dancing and having good grades, attracted the envy of other girls. The boys still despised girls, and those who did not, did not dare go against Dudley. Staying alone, or going against the sour words of the girls, would make her a social outcast.

\- Yes darling. They went last night after you went to bed. - Petunia sighed, she knew that her husband tolerated the girl and gave her money to look after her, and completely ignored her niece.

\- So, since I'll be busy tomorrow afternoon, what do we plan for today and the rest of the time we'll spend together? You know we will not see each other until Christmas, and I can have commitments and dances in the magical world at this time, since I've missed many in the last nine years. - She was torn in sorrow by the dreaded separation from her aunt, and anticipation of what would come.

\- So, I was thinking...

They spent the rest of the day talking, buying clothes and books and movies in the city, watching them till midnight came and go, cooking and eating, smiling, laughing and doing food wars.

When they woke up the next day, the hangover of happiness from the previous day still latent in the smiles they gave each other as they were thrown into the room on mats, the face of Petunia rejuvenated for at least a decade and the look they exchanged was enough to make they laugh loudly.

\- What time is it? The teacher will be here at noon. - The girl said, after they could breathe again. The mention of the separation erased the smiles from their faces. The older woman's eyes filled with tears, and Cassiopeia jumped into her aunt's, her most beloved friend, confident, teacher and relative, almost her mom, arms to embrace her.

\- It's ... It's only going to be four months. Everything ... Everything will be fine, you will see ... it will be all right. I ... I'll ... I'll be here for Christmas, and then another three months and it will be ... it will be Easter! And we still have more ... more August to spend together. - The girl's voice was choked, but she quickly wiped her tears, and smiled at her aunt. - We can ... we can ... send Uncle Vernon and Dudley on that trip they wanted to go for so long! With Aunt Marge, to Majorca! He ... he has not taken a vacation in four years, and Aunt Marge does not like me or you. We can spend August together ... And I'll send you letters every week!

\- Just if you promise to tell me everything. - The older woman smiled.

They both laughed behind forgotten tears, and Petunia looked to the clock.

\- Go shower and dress yourself, quickly! It's almost a half past eleven, and I don't think your teacher will be happy if you are late.

The younger girl jumped off the couch, her tangled hair slapping against her back as she scampered up the stairs. Her aunt gave a slightly sad laugh, remembering that soon he would not see this sight very often, and that in a few weeks those red threads and bright eyes would only be seen in a few months of the year.

Less than half an hour later, the girl had taken a warm shower, washed, dried and untangled her long hair and trapped these in a well-crafted coke on the top of her head. Two small wicks fell on his face, and a long wick was used to make a side tuft.

She was dressed in a satin dress that stood an inch or two before her knee. It was dark green, with a large back tie that accentuated his waist, and a smaller, delicate one at the front.

The skirt was beaded and slightly rounded, the larger folds making it look larger. It was slightly translucent between the shoulders, with a strip of the same color as the dress on the bust.

She wore a pair of velvet shoes, without heels and also green, with a black strip to keep them firm in her feet. A silver necklace with a beautiful black stone fell against her chest, and small matching earrings were in her ears. In her bun, at least fifteen staples with bright spots were in place. She passed some translucent gloss, and put on short, green gloves.

She descended the stairs on the proud and attentive gaze of her aunt, who had never seen her so beautiful before. Cassiopeia's posture was perfect, the mask of coolness in place, and both hands placed one above the other in front of her. She smiled at her aunt in control as they had trained, and sat down carefully on the couch so she would not knead her dress.

Less than ten minutes later, the doorbell rang, and the girl, reading a magazine enjoying the quiet company of her aunt (who read a book), got up a little stiff and placed the magazine on the scepter table, walking to the door and opening it.

The man standing there was tall, much taller than her aunt (and she dared to say, even her uncle), thin with sallow skin, a large, hooked nose and yellow, uneven teeth.

He was dressed in flowing black robes, that remind her a bit of an overgrown bat. He had shoulder-length, greasy black hair which framed his face in curtains, curling lips and dark, penetrating eyes that resembled tunnels.

She made a small curl, clutching the edges of her dress, which surprised the man, who was expecting a spoiled and vain girl. Although he quickly overcame his surprise, realizing that he had been warned in advance that she was not what he expected.

**_Yesterday morning, Hogwarts_ **

_Minerva McGonagall was expecting a lot of things that Wednesday morning, perhaps a delayed catch from the Weasley twins, or a detestable and colorful new outfit from Albus, or Severus being even more unbearable with the approaching start of the year (especially with the daughter of his worst enemy and his great love starting school). What she did not expect was a very accurate response from the child._

_Firstly, she did not imagine, like the rest of the magical world, that the girl who lived knew them, their greetings and customs. Much less that she was aware of the events of 1981._

_Secondly, she did not think she would ever be referred to by her title, since even some purebloods no longer remembered that._

_Thirdly, the teacher felt sorry for the child, who could not remember her godfather when he was not yet a traitor. It was difficult even for her, who remembered the betrayal of Sirius Black well and had time to overcome the situation. Had the child grown up thinking he was looking for her, or had no interest in her?_

_At last, she decided to go and tell Albus, and that led her into the headmaster's office without being announced shortly after breakfast._

_\- Minerva, my dear, what brings you here so early in the holidays? Another Weasley twins' delayed dung bomb? - The man had a disturbing gleam in his blue eyes, for before the scottish woman arrived (and without her knowledge), he was planning the traps on the third floor (it would not hurt to make the young Potter a little more resilient) and looking at the list of born muggles to see who would be more suitable (and prone) to make friends with Cassiopeia at his orders._

_Little Granger had been put on the list (if handled, maybe a little insulated from her house, he could make the younger Weasley take care of it)_

_\- Or did we have any more applicants for the defense position? The position is no longer vague._

_\- Look at this letter, Albus! I think maybe you did not make a mistake putting young Potter with her aunt! - The cat animagus held out the letter to him._

_The gleam in Dumbledore's eyes quickly disappeared, but the woman did not notice. He read the letter, noting the subtle hints that the girl knew exactly who she was, and also her aunt's old hatred of witchcraft (making it clear that it was past), and what they thought she would be. She also seemed aware of the policies of the school and the functioning of the world they shared._

_Unlike Minerva, he thought so, he had made a big mistake by putting the Girl-Who-Lived with Petunia. The muggle made the girl everything he hoped would not happen. The young woman would not be manipulative, malleable or open to suggestions._

_She would not put the lives of others in front of hers, and she seemed intelligent, cunning, and resourceful. He hoped she had no ambition, but he knew that this thought was unlikely to be realized._

_Not letting the old deputy headmistress notice his change of mood or expression, he began to think of new plans, since sending Hagrid now would be futile and would annoy the girl. He could speak ill of Petunia, and would want to follow her in Gringots and Diagon Alley, in addition to restricting his purchases and telling him things that would annoy her, since she already knew them._

_Also his lack of manners could alienate the girl away from him and his fellow men, and that would not do._

_An idea popped into his mind. He knew Severus had to refill his potion ingredients, and he would go to Knockturn Alley tomorrow. Maybe it would not be a bad idea to get him to the alley._

_He despised Cassiopeia without even knowing her, and would treat her badly in the short time they spent together. She would have a bad view of him, which would give her less reason to lean in his ways._

_Not everything was lost, no._

_- That's very curious information, Minerva ... I think you'll agree with me that it's no longer the best idea to send Hagrid to fetch Miss Potter. Severus has business in the alley tomorrow, would you be kind enough to search for him for me? And tell him to come to my office as soon as possible._

_Minerva was not an idiot. She knew that Albus was not a man who took actions without an end, and not all his actions ended with the good of others._

_Sometimes he gained more, be it power or money or influence. But most of the time, the magic world was saved by his ideas. She did not think, however, that was above the old director to use a child in his own plans and to repair his own mistakes, and she would not let a student of her be manipulated in such a way. But at the moment, she knew there was little or nothing she could do._

_- Yes, Albus. - She smiled, and pick up the letter - I'll answer the kid, telling her that Severus will fetch her tomorrow, at noon. Is this okay?_

_\- It is excellent, Minerva._

_She went out in search of Severus, after a short bow to the Headmaster, finding him in his private room of potions in the dungeons, sorting ingredients._

_\- Severus, Albus asked you to speak with him as soon as possible._

_The potions master looked at the woman who had harbored him so often, who took care of him and looked for him when he forgot to eat. The woman who knew Dumbledore's manipulations as well as he often did with the older sorcerer when he wanted to send Severus into dangerous missions. It was she who comforted him after his quarrel with Lily, not Slughorn._

_It was she who wept with him after his acquisition of the dark mark, and it was she who directed him to Albus (for she preferred him under the old man's marionette web than in Azkaban)._

_He nodded, getting up his chair and passing through her. She quickly grabbed his arm._

_\- Do not let the father's blood influence the child. It may surprise you._

_He grunted, now having an idea of what the old puppeteer wanted with him. She let go of his arm, and they nodded to each other before he went to the Headmaster, and her, to her brandy._

_Severus climbed the stairs to the office of the man, quickly putting up his Occlumency shields._

_\- Severus, my dear boy - The twinkle in the old man's eyes were disturbing and calculating. The teacher hated this expression, and even more the pet name- You must have been informed by Minerva that the young Miss Potter is not exactly as we thought she would be. The girl seems well informed of our world, and very well aware of ancient customs and fancy greetings. So we simply could not send Hagrid, since she expressed the wish that it was only accompanied by her house to the alley and the alley to her house, not needing guidance during her shopping or her visit to Gringots._

_The old man shooked his head like he was a bit disappointed at the child._

_\- If I'm not mistaken, and forgive that old mind, but you have to replenish your stocks, and you'll go to the alley tomorrow, will not you?_

_Severus pushed the urge to say no to the back of his mind, well aware of where this was leading them._

_- Yes sir. Should I presume you want me to take the child?_

_The glow in the man's eyes intensified._

_\- Yes, Severus. And I want you to remember who she is and whose daughter. - He paused a second, as if to leave him, pretending that he was not talking about his school enemy. - Lily was your best friend._

_They both knew that he was not talking about Lily, and that this name was there to remember his great love lost and the debt he owed Albus._

_\- Of course, Headmaster._

_He quickly left, going to his chambers to analyze both conversations._

**_Present, Privet Drive_ **

\- Good day sir. Should I assume you're the school's envoy, Mr. Snape? The pleasure is all mine, I am Cassiopeia Potter.

The man raised an eyebrow. He was not yet convinced that the girl was not a complete idiot, arrogant and full of herself, like her father.

But until she showed some proof of being a Gryffindor with no mind or ambition, he would treat her with the same coolness that treated the strangers, but he would reciprocate her education, he wasn't a savage.

\- Good day Miss Potter. I'm in fact Mr. Severus Snape, I'll be taking you so you can do your purchases. Let's go, we don't have time to waste.

\- Goodbye, Aunt Petunia.

She closed the door behind her, coming to the yard, a mask of coolness in place and sharp green eyes looking direct into his soul. He took notice that she looked more like Black and Lily's child than Potter's.

The thought made a smirk appear in the edge of his mouth. She looked at him, expecting him to talk.

Dumbledore would have a heart attack seeing all his plans collapse in front of him like glass when this girl goes to Slytherin (he'd bet she will). But the old man would have a worse attack on seeing the girl succeed (and Severus would be sure of her success).

Also, he had a powerful collaborator for it. Petunia was the _most Slytherin muggle he had ever had the pleasure (or displeasure) of knowing_ , and if the signals were right, raised the girl like one.

\- We're going to apparate. I hope you are familiar with the process?

\- Yes, sir.

And in a flash of color and sound, teacher and future student disappeared under the attentive eyes of the blonde woman at the window.


	4. We Will Rock You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it just calls for you. Sometimes, you drawn them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe each year will have between fifteen and twenty chapters, so I may be finishing year one in beginning of January, and year two in middle of February (since in second year I will have to describe all summer and Dobby and some summer interaction with the Malfoys. All the Chamber situation will happen in a different way, and the second year is also bigger than the first one).

The man and the girl appeared, milliseconds later, in front of a dubious pub in the center of London. A wooden sign stuck by iron chains (long rotted on the edges) had written on its two faces "Leaky Cauldron" with yellow letters beginning to fade. The windows of the establishment were stained and contained scratches that no one had bothered to repair, acquired with the passage of time.

Hooded people occupied some old wooden tables in the background, looking suspiciously sideways and holding mugs of dark beer or bottles of red whiskey.

Seated near the window, two school-aged blue-clad boys compared notes in two identical, black notebooks.

At the counter, an older man attended two energetic witches in colorful yellow and red robes. One of them had a two- or three-year-old child on her lap.

A muggle-born (the clothes gave her) of brown curly hair with big front teeth smiled at her mother (only parents or guardians were allowed in the magical world, and the girl did not seek her look of approval, but of confidence) while her father carrying a large bag full of books.

A dark-skinned, serious-looking boy stared at the scene in disgust (a particularly disgusted scowl sent to the girl with curly hair), a tall, white woman (his mother, but she had no sympathy for him, if the looks of warning meant anything) at his side, one hand on the shoulder of a girl with almost white hair the same age as the boy (his best friend in the way she looked at him with amusement).

As they entered the room, young Potter realized all this information, being trained to get information wherever she went. The glances did not immediately turn to them, since the entrance bell rang every few minutes. It was not strange also the clothes, although these were in the line between Muggle and Witch.

The professor, not wanting to attract attention (knowing the girl would attract a lot), walked quickly to the back alley of the bar, Cassiopeia following in his footsteps diligently.

He paused for a few seconds to give a slight nod of recognition to the dark-haired boy's family, and the young woman repeated her gestures, bowing in the style of pure blood. When they reached the brick wall, the white woman's eyes finally widened in recognition of the girl, and she smiled a little at the sight of the situation, but made no mention of drawing attention to or approaching the child.

Fate would take care of introducing his son to the amazing girl, not so much a symbol of Dumbledore as they expected. The marriage contract with Greengrass did not stop her from canceling this one for a better one. Neither stopped her son to follow her steps just once and killing his first wife (killing Greengrass and taking Potter? Wonderful idea)

Unaware of the thoughts of the famous Italian black widow (or not so much, the Potions teacher did not need her mental arts to guess what the dangerous woman was thinking, not when her fingers squeezed the blonde girl's shoulder like claws), Severus turned to Cassy with a stern look.

\- What I need to do will take a while, maybe more than four hours. Do you think you can finish everything you have to do until five o'clock?

The girl thought for a few seconds. Seeing that Gringotts would take no more than two hours, and the rest would not take much, she nodded with a quick "Yes, sir."

\- So at five o'clock we leave right here at the pub. Do not be late, and if you get ahead of me, do not stray from the counter and cover your scar.

They nodded at each other in a silent agreement. The teacher struck a brick pattern (which for the young witch seemed random, but tried to decorate anyway), and these were distancing themselves and giving way to one of the most incredible visions ever seen by Cassiopeia (and that included her trip to France two years ago).

Not wanting to delay the man or make him impatient, she quickly returned to the mask of coldness. The teacher did (without her knowledge) the same thing, having a sudden nostalgic feeling occurred to him to see the face of the girl, so similar to Lily but so different and distant, finally to demonstrate an emotion to the warm view of the diagonal alley, that enchanted hundreds of people not born or raised among wizards every day.

They stepped into the wide cobbled street, and parted slightly, the girl trailing through the throng of people to the huge white marble pillared building where Gringotts was written, and the man trailing through the shadows to the detour leading to the alley destined for the dark arts and contraband (where he bought the rare ingredients to create the wells requested by Albus, who was sometimes a more demanding master than his former, only a little more lenient in his punishments, never being inflicted by spells of pain and knives, but by condescending words and spells, which the old man made his victim agree to receive out of remorse).

The redhead passed through the windows that showed brooms of last generation, promising the best speeds; books that danced or bubbled, or bit or changed color, size and shape; animals with colored feathers, small or large or with beaks and claws sharper than daggers; boilers of all kinds; street vendors with fruit-filled pitchers she'd never seen, shiny jewelry, multicolored oils, and disgusting potions.

A plump woman complained about the price of ashwinder eggs, holding the hand of a small, brown haired boy. A middle-aged man passed with a tray of sweet rolls to his bakery. A girl with too much makeup not much older than she held several bags of clothes, shoes and ... Was that a two-tailed dog in her purse?

Cassiopeia was ecstatic with all the movement, but she kept her composure and turned away from beggars and vendors offering all sorts of things, following her way to the bank. Some went out of their way, noticing their clothes as a sign of elevated position.

She went up the steps of the bench, past two beggars who were trying to grab her heels, and refusing another flask of yellowish liquid. She wiped the nonexistent dust from her skirt and enter the large double burnish bronze doors of the bank, lined by two slightly smaller goblins (and she was only 4.2 feet) in red and golden armor with large pointed spears.

These two doors led to a small marble entrance hall, where magical hangers collected overcoats, umbrellas, cloaks, hats, and scarves. Because it was a hot day and she had none of these, she glimpsed the pair of silver doors in front of her. An inscription in curved letters made her shiver a little, that she could not tell if there was a spell to make it happen or if she was afraid of the warning.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_   
_Of what awaits the sin of greed_   
_For those who take, but do not earn,_   
_Must pay most dearly in their turn._   
_So if you seek beneath our floors_   
_A treasure that was never yours,_   
_Thief, you have been warned, beware_   
_Of finding more than treasure there._

Pushing one of the doors (which were definitely delighted to be lighter than usual), the first thing she saw was a long corridor with tables on either side, goblins with glasses at the end of their long curved noses sitting on tall chairs answering customers by examining the authenticity of gems, counting coins or signing papers.

The young woman walked upright to the last table in the queue, farther away from the other clients to attract unwanted attention, and (already knowing the rude beings in her mother's diaries), did not make any remarks when speaking.

\- Sir, may your gold flow and your enemies flee upon hearing your name. My name is Cassiopeia Heather Potter, and I do not carry the key to my safe. This is in possession of someone who has no right to it or any right over me. I am willing to take a blood test to prove my identity, and also to list all my inheritances and my titles, as well as all the money that belongs to me.

The goblin looked at her with curiosity and a little greed. He bent his head slightly and smiled malefically, coming down from his high chair and pointing to one of the several doors.

\- Miss Potter, I wish you the same as you wished me. I believe that your requests should be answered in a private room, follow me. My name is Griphook.

The young woman followed the banker to a tall door, made of a smooth, polished dark wood, so bright she could see her own reflection. There were two doorknobs. One tall and big enough for one person four times her height and one so that the little creatures who run the bank can spin without problem.

Griphook came in and sat down in a large velvet armchair behind a rosewood table. Papers and ink cartridges were piled up, and an amber light illuminated the room, but the girl did not know where she came from. There were no windows, and a large bookcase full of books identical to each other was leaning against the far wall.

\- Sit down, Miss Potter, and give me your hand. - The humanoid creature conjured a piece of parchment from among the others, pulling a dagger from the third drawer of his desk.

He gestured to one of the tall, white armchairs in front of him, and the witch sat down, feeling the chair adjust to her size. Then she placed her hand on the table, watching the well-made and colorless fingernails, her pale hand against the dark table.

He turned his hand, cutting his palm with the cold blade. She trembled, and the blood fell lightly on the parchment and was absorbed by it, turning into letters and numbers. The goblin read quickly before extending the paper to the girl, grinning greedily.

-Apparently, Miss Potter, or shall I say, Lady Potter-Black-Peverell-Slytherin, you are the newest billionaire in the magic world, and I must say, the youngest as well.

_Client: Cassiopeia Heather Potter-Black-Peverell-Slytherin_

_Titles: Lady Potter (to be claimed), Lady Peverell (to be claimed at 16), Lady Slytherin (to be claimed), Lady Black (regent, to be claimed)_

_Muggle Titles: Heir Schuyler (third in line to succession)_

_Wizengamot: 21 Votes_

_Mother Family Line_

_Mother: Lillian Jacynth Potter-Peverell (neé Evans) (deceased)_

_\- Maternal Grandmother: Jacynth Heather Evans (neé Schuyler) (deceased)_

_\- Maternal Grandfather: Alexander J. D. Evans (deceased)_

_Titles: Lady Potter (by marriage), Lady Peverell (by marriage) (never claimed), Lady Slytherin (by conquest) (never claimed), Princess of Magic Scotland (never claimed) (by conquest)_

_Father Family Line_

_Father: James Charlus Potter-Peverell (deceased)_

_\- Paternal Grandmother: Dorea Cassiopeia Potter (neé Black), Lady Potter-Peverell (deceased)_

_\- Paternal Grandfather: Charlus Fleamont Potter, Lord Potter-Peverell (deceased)_

_\- Godfather By Magic: Magnus Arcturus Longbottom, Lord Longbottom-Gryffindor (deceased)_

_\- Godmother By Magic: Augusta Phoebe Longbottom (née Sefiq), Widow Lady Longbottom-Gryffindor_

_Titles: Lord Potter (by inheritage), Lord Peverell (by inheritage) (never claimed), Lord Slytherin (post-mortem) (by marriage), Prince Consort of Magic Scotland (post-mortem) (by marriage)_

_Godfather Family Line_

_Godfather by Magic and Blood: Sirius Orion Black, Lord Black (imprisoned, not claimed) (doesn't extend more than direct family)_

_Grandmother by Blood and Magic: Walburga Druella Black (née Black), Lady Black (deceased)_

_Grandfather by Blood and Magic: Orion Phineas Black, Lord Black (deceased)_

_Grandmother Family Line_

_Godmother by Magic: Alice Iolanthe Longbottom (nee Fawley), Lady Longbottom-Gryffindor (disabled)_

_Grandmother by Magic: Iolanthe Felicia Fawley (neé Black), Lady Fawley (by marriage) (deceased)_

_Grandfather by Magic: James Dullies Fawley, Lord Fawley (deceased)_

_Guardian_

_Guardian: Petunia Alexandra Schuyler Dursley (neé Evans) (Muggle)_

_Relation: Maternal Aunt_

_Titles: Lady Schuyler (next in line)_

_\- Alive Family Members Under the Titles' Jurisdiction:_

_\- Narcissa Druella Malfoy (neé Black), Lady Malfoy (by marriage), (by magic) (non-hereditary)_

_\- Bellatrix Melania Lestrange (neé Black), Heiress Lestrange (by marriage), (by magic) (non-hereditary) (imprisioned)_

_\- Andromeda Ursula Tonks (neé Black), Mrs. Tonks (by marriage), (by magic) (non-hereditary)_

_- Sirius Orion Black, Lord Black (never claimed), (godfather) (imprisioned)_

_\- Tom Marvolo Riddle, Heir Slytherin (by blood) (ancient lord, conquered), Heir Hufflepuff (by conquest) (ancient lord, conquerer) (vassal) (in spirit form)_

_Lady of the Noble House of Potter_

_\- Heirlooms:_

_\- Ring of Eternal Love_   
_\- Cintamani Stone_   
_\- Twelve Lost Dragon Teeth_   
_\- Trunks, books, gadgets, robes, armors, knives, daggers and jewels_

_\- Precious Stones:_

_\- 90K in rubies_   
_\- 34K in diamonds_   
_\- 35K in emeralds_   
_\- 29K in topazes_   
_\- 47K in moonstones_

_\- Money:_

_\- Vault 669: 4 million galleons_   
_\- Vault 467: 876 thousand galleons, 26 sickles, 27 knuts_

_- Acres and Properties:_

_\- Potter Manor (Ireland)_   
_\- Godric's Hallow (England)_   
_\- Marauder's Den (Scotland)_   
_\- Ballymoon Castle (Ireland)_   
_\- Ballyloughan Castle (Ireland)_   
_- 25% of The Leaky Cauldron (invest by Charlus Potter, 1958)_   
_\- 16% of The Prophet Diary (invest by Fleamont Potter, 1920)_   
_\- 65% of Zonko's (invest by James Potter, 1974)_   
_\- 28% of Honeydukes (invest by Euphemia Potter, 1916)_   
_\- 35% of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop (invest by Dorea Potter, 1956)_

_Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

_- Heirlooms:_

_\- Dark Artifacts_   
_\- Three Domestic Elfs (Kreacher, Mina and Juika)_   
_\- Slytherin Locket (by conquest)_   
_- Trunks, books, robes, poisons, potions, daggers and jewels_   
_\- Precious Stones:_   
_\- 8K in rubies_   
_\- 54K in diamonds_   
_\- 90K in emeralds_   
_\- 70K in tourmalines_   
_\- 70K in jades_

_\- Money:_

_\- Vault 393: 19 million galleons_   
_\- Vault 645: 298 thousand galleons_

_\- Acres and Properties:_

_\- Black Manor (Paris, France)_   
_\- Grimmauld Place, 12 (London, England)_   
_\- Eleanor's Den (Venice, Italy)_   
_\- Grafty's Cave (Maslen nos Primorsko, Bulgary)_   
_\- Cedrella's Orphanage for Muggleborn Children (London, England)_   
_\- 69% of Borgin n' Burkes (invest by Orion Black, 1958)_   
_\- 22% of Prophet Diary (invest by Callidora Black, 1922)_   
_\- 32% of Flourish and Books (invest by Cygnus Black II, 1939)_   
_\- 67% of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions (invest by Lycoris Black, 1967)_   
_- 25% of Beauxbatons Academy Of Magic (founder, Via Black)_

_Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House Of Peverell_

_\- Heirlooms:_

_\- The Elder Wand_   
_\- The Resurrection Stone_   
_\- The Invisibility Cloack_   
_\- Trunks, books and robes_   
_\- Precious Stones:_   
_\- The Tiger's Eye_   
_\- The Black Diamond_   
_\- The Bloody Ruby_   
_\- Star of India_   
_- De Beers Diamond_   
_\- 39K in moonstones_

_\- Money:_

_\- Vault 154: 87 million galleons_   
_\- Vault: 47: 92 million galleons_   
_\- Vault 15: 147 million galleons_   
_\- Vault 21: 278 million galleons_

_\- Acres and Properties:_

_\- Death's Bridge (England)_   
_\- Stella's Castle (Amazonian Forest, Brazil)_   
_\- Archimedes' Library (Syracuse, Greece)_   
_\- Jaskao's Flat (Tokyo, Japan)_   
_\- Quinn's Den (Volgograd, Russia)_   
_\- 15% of Mahoutokoro (acquired by marriage, in 534 A. C.)_

_Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin_

_\- Heirlooms:_

_\- Basilisk_   
_\- Basilisk's Scales and Fangs_   
_\- Basilisk's Armor_   
_\- Book of Thoth_   
_\- Trunks, poisons, potions, robes, books and jewels_   
_\- Precious Stones:_   
_\- Ice Diamond_   
_\- Basilisk Eye_   
_\- Chalk Emerald_   
_\- La Peregrina_   
_\- Rosser Reeves Ruby_   
_\- Logan Sapphire_   
_\- Star of Bombay_   
_\- 2K of red diamonds_

_\- Money:_   
_\- Vault 14: 198 million of galleons_   
_\- Vault 589: 209 million of galleons_   
_\- Vault 231: 278 million sickles_   
_\- Vault 33: 3890 million sickles, 229 million knuts_

_\- Acres and Properties:_

_- Solar of Patience (Versailles, France)_   
_\- Topkapi Palace (Istanbul, Turkey)_   
_\- Chamber of Secrets_   
_\- Riddle's Mansion (Little Hangleton, England)_   
_\- Morgana's Lair (France)_   
_\- 25% of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_   
_\- 25% of Hogsmead Village_

After a few minutes looking stunned at the parchment, she heard the creature's voice again, which contained a hint of amusement.

\- If you're wondering, your full title, as soon as you claim the titles you can at this age, is Lady Cassiopeia Heather Potter-Black-Slytherin, Heiress Peverell.

"If you marry, at any age, your husband will be Lord Consort. You have 1,286,109,092 galleons and 11 sickles, which just 682,109,092 and 11 sickles are, in fact, yours to use until your sixteenth birthday. You have control of a quart of the Hogwarts school, which I believe is where you're going. Get ready for some surprises about your location and your... sleeping arrangements."

The young woman recovered from the shock and straightened in her chair, the green orbs facing the goblin's whitish eyes.

\- So I shall claim them now.

He conjured with a movement of his hand a five-ring glass box placed on velvet cushions, and opened it, extending the first one to her. This one was golden and had clearly belonged to a man's hand before hers. It contained a dark opaque red stone with a golden two-headed lion carved into it. Patterns painted in red circled the ring like blood.

\- This is the Potter seal. Put on your left-hand ring finger.

Young Potter took the ring and did as she was told. Initially the jewel was too big for the finger, but after a few minutes, it flashed red, the magic blinding her for a few seconds before she could see and feel the metal pressed against her skin. A familiar sensation spread through her, and she imagined seeing a trace of red hair and honey-colored eyes under round spectacles.

\- So mote it be.

He held out the second ring. It was white, as if made of bone, and a black stone shone on it. This ring had also belonged to a man, and the lines that circled him were thinner and blacker than the previous one. A silver crow was carved in this, and the inside was engraved with the phrase "Toujours Pur".

\- This is the seal of the Black family. Put on your ring finger of the right hand.

The same as the previous one repeated itself, now emitting a black, cold, almost judgmental glow that radiated, examining her ability, for almost ten minutes before adjusting. The goblin seemed almost disappointed when it happened.

\- So mote it be

The third was silver, with a huge green stone, two silver serpents intertwined with each other in the center of it. Another one that had belonged to a man before her. Small snakes decorated the whole circumference, inside and out. Cassiopeia thought, with a chill, that they seemed to move under the flickering light.

\- This is the Slytherin seal. Put on your middle finger of the left hand.

It took less than a minute to accept her, glowing from the very same green of her eyes.

\- So mote it be.

The last ring was smaller than the first three and seemed to be made of dark wood polished with a gray stone which, unlike the others, was surrounded by smaller stones that glittered like crystals and were transparent. A triangle with a circle and a trace inside it, engraved with wood, adorned the stone, and a scythe decorated the inside of the ring.

\- This is the seal of the Heir of Peverell, and should be worn on your small left-hand finger.

The silver glow spread in a different way, almost a mist, curling into her arm and climbing up her neck and interlacing in her hair. A shrill sound was heard, and the seal settled on her skin, the feel of the wood much warmer than the cold metal of the Black Family, but much colder than the bold Potter's. It was nothing like the Slytherin, who was almost reptilian against her skin.

\- I wish all my properties to be heavily warded, and the house-elves be warned to clean them entirely, to keep the tapestries, bed and table linen and curtains in stock, to polish the cutlery, to replant the gardens as they please, and remain alert. - She didn't hesitated for one second, more straight than ever, feeling the power run through her veins

\- I'll send a message before appear, but I want them ready. I also wish that all objects worth more than a thousand galleons and not furniture be transported safely to a vault here, and all those who are cursed should be exorcised or eliminated. Portraits of people should be cleaned and placed all in one room. Personal objects of people who are already dead, if they have no value other than the sentimental, should be donated, excluding objects of intimate use. These should be discarded. Photographs go to the stock too.

She breathed for a few seconds, focusing on what else she should do. She looked at the list again, numbering the things and what will go to where.

\- I want the equivalent of a million pounds transported to a muggle account, and all gems should be grouped by type into jars, taking the most valuable with proper names, these I want to be polished and separated from the others, on pedestals, their vaults.

"Jewelry items should be placed on shelves separately and by type: necklaces, earrings (in pairs), rings, bracelets, anklets, belts, crowns, tiaras, blades, bows and others. All self-named heirlooms quoted on this list should be placed on separate pedestals in their own vaults.

"Books should be organized by titles and subject in organized piles, the repeated ones must be donated to Archimedes library. Trunks should be opened, and the content should be separated and classified according to my other instructions.

"All clothing worth less than five thousand galleons must be donated to the orphanage, and the others must be put into cabinets in their own vaults. Potions and poisons should be identified and separated on shelves accordingly.

She smiled, breathing again and looking to the greedy smile of the goblin.

\- I also want a money bag attached to the vault 14, which opens only for my magic signature. All the keys to my vaults must be confiscated and destroyed, they will only open with my blood given by me with my magic signature. All listed magic items that are not in my vaults should be confiscated and returned to them. The money to cover all requisitions can be taken from my vaults, and also the price for this visit and the blood test.

\- It will cost three hundred thousand galleons, Milady. - He said, waiting her to back off.

\- Then add one more thing to my list: Ballymoon Castle should be turned into a second orphanage, for magical children born of muggles or raised by them, but these do not value them. Also invest more of my money in buying as many shares as possible of the five or six most prominent newspapers and magazines. It's always good to have the media on your side. - She knew the creatures were rude and expected her to be like the other wizards, greedy and idiots, for whom they had great mistrust.

\- That will cost another hundred thousand galleons, apart from the annual expenses of the orphanage and the amount that will be invested.

\- It's done, then. It was good to do business with you, Mr. Griphook. - Cassiopeia rose gracefully and reached out to the goblin, who shook it with a raised eyebrow.

\- May your coffers fill with gold - A laugh would have been heard had the young lady not been so polite. If a suppressed chuckle was heard, it was not commented on by either of them.

\- And may your enemies tremble at the sound of your name. - She replied.

They left the room, the goblin pausing only to kiss Cassiopeia's hand, an attitude by which she made a mental note of getting accustomed, for she was now a member of the high society of the wizard world, and this was extremely traditional.

Griphook went to the right, shouting orders to his subordinates, while the youngest millionaire witch left the Bank with her chin raised, passing a delicate hand to pull a few strands of hair from her eyes before taking the purse of money offered to her.

He walked the streets of the market, again diverting from the beggars and vendors, leaving three galleons to an old man for whom she felt sorry. She would have left more, or even taken him to one of the houses and the one placed as a housekeeper, even with the elves (to rescue someone from the streets created a debt of life, so he could not betray her), were it not for the smell of beer and alcohol emanating from it.

Watching the shops, she decided to go first to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, not only because she loved clothes, but because the books would take longer, since she would have to look for books on culture rather than the school ones (she already had those of her mother, who came with notes).

The shop was friendly, creamy and pastel. A witch with a tight coke and a pincushion at the waist (along with a whole sewing kit) was behind the wooden counter, and a pair of translucent yellow curtains separated this entrance of figures that seemed to measure the clothes of a person from the her age.

Macaws full of robes and fabrics of all colors and types scattered everywhere, boots and bags filling shelves. Cufflinks, gloves, ties and socks also had their place in these, and even some jewelry.

\- Good morning darling, I'm Madame Malkin. What do you want today? - The woman's voice was soft, and Cassy smiled, putting both hands on the counter unpretentiously. The smile grew when she saw the woman's eyes widen in surprise and shock, recognizing the symbols.

\- Good morning, Madame Malkin. I'm Cassiopeia Potter-Black-Slytherin. I'm here for my Hogwarts robes and a few more extras, you know, a lady's wardrobe is never stocked enough. - She tilted her head slightly, and the woman's eyes widened before she looked at the floor suddenly.

\- Of course, Lady Potter-Black-Slytherin. Follow me please, there is another student being adjusted now as well. - The older woman followed her head down the curtains, and the girl followed her upright. The boy being adjusted had piercing mercury eyes, platinum hair, and a pointed face.

There was elegance and pride in the way he wore it. She gave him a brief smile as his eyes followed her figure, but there was no surprise or respect in them, which meant he had not heard her.

\- For Hogwarts too? - He asked as a young woman reached out a hand to help her onto the stool, her head lowered, obviously alerted by her employer of who she was.

\- Yes, Mr...? - She knew his face from somewhere, but she could not remember. Besides, it was more polite to ask.

\- Malfoy, Draco Malfoy - He had an air of importance about himself, and she remembered the pictures of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, now Malfoy if the blood test said anything.

\- Oh yeah. The son of Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy. I believe I'm addressing the Heir Malfoy? - The boy seemed a little surprised by his knowledge, but smiled at her shrewdly.

\- And you are? - He said with a raised eyebrow.

\- I'm Cassiopeia Potter, Lady Potter-Black-Slytherin. - She smiled at the surprise that broke the boy's cold mask for five whole minutes. After five minutes of complete silence, she added - Heiress Peverell.

Instead of shocking the boy more, he smiled, recovering the facade, a little shaken, and pushed the woman who made the bar of his robe with a hand gesture, bowing and kissing her hand.

\- The pleasure is all mine, my lady. It's an honor to meet you.

\- It's my pleasure, heir Malfoy. I believe your parents are buying your things? - She asked, still smiling.

\- Only my mother, she is in Gringotts. My father was busy at the Ministry. And you are with?

\- Mr. Snape, Professor of Potions. Besides the clothes, have you bought anything else? - He looked at her interestedly, then smiled, understanding the purpose of the question.

\- No, but if you want to accompany me, I have no objection, mademoiselle. - They smiled together and for each other, seeing this as the beginning of a beautiful alliance and friendship.

Cassiopeia knew that here she was taking a side, choosing the Malfoys as an ally, a family of pure blood. She knew what the consequences would be, as the world would see her, especially with the surnames Slytherin and Black. At least Potter was there to balance the scales, and the Peverells ... Well, she did not know the position of this family, but she hoped it would be neutral, or long enough without an heir that no one else could remember.

Because she was still a pre-teen without many friends, and Draco seemed friendly and generally someone to be around, if not a bit arrogant.

\- I would love to.  
  
  



	5. Money, Money, Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more looks into her travel to Diagon Alley, and her new shiny best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll have Hogwarts in the next chapter so be happy!
> 
> (also, bigger chapteeeers)
> 
> I'm trying to better my grammar, for the sake of writing, but isn't perfect yet.
> 
> Well, at least it's getting better
> 
> See you soon, I hope
> 
> Enjoy S2

The two children (for, despite their titles and the importance of these, the two were only eleven-year-old children) talked about light subjects (Draco was ecstatic to explain to Cassiopeia all the rules of Quidditch, and the girl discovered that it was expected that the boy went to Slytherin, but he did not have many friends among the pure-bloods and would not mind going to Ravenclaw) as they waited for the clerks to finish their measurements.

As was normal among other people the same age, they became fast friends. Maybe it was the fact that they were not finally on the watchful eye of their caretakers, or that the lady who run the store did not have such a high position in society to get involved in the gossip circles with which they lived.

Still, they held their composure, allowing only low laughter from the backs of the attendants, who smiled discreetly to see the two acting as their age, but did not comment.

Draco finished first, and after paying what he owed (which to him was a muck, but to most people would be an embezzlement in their bank accounts) by the school clothes, waited for his new friend (and probably the only other he would ever have other than Pansy and Blaise) finished choosing fabrics and metals (she would not content herself with a single common cloak with silver locks, and needed more than one pointed hat or one pair of gloves, also, the common name tags were ugly and she wanted them embroidered in silver, yellow or green) sitting in a velvet chair that stood in front of the counter, watching the younger Potter while she was deciding for the trunk with the biggest inside space, rooms and even a library, but weightless.

The girl smiled at him, a smile that made him smile back, and it was not one of those fake smiles he gave to old ladies at charity parties, or the sneer of disdain he gave the Weasleys every time he saw them.

She was one of his first friends, something he dreamed of since he knew about the Girl-Who-Lived.

He rethought the last half hour in his head.

Thirty Minutes Before

The afternoon had begun horribly, his mother had left him to go to the bank when it came to breaking news that her former family (Black) had a new regent.

His father had trouble with old Fudge, the man again wanting to appease the older blonde to investigate Malfoy Mansion under Dumbledore's orders ("advice from an old friend, Lucius, you know, with the suspicions of the old war, and the association with the Blacks, just a routine thing").

Then the young heir went to Madame Malkins, his mother saying she would find him later in the pub (that place was ... disgusting). He then, in the calm voice he wore with the adults with whom he had nothing against (the shop owner was kind, and he was not a monster), he indicated exactly what he wanted.

The place was empty, and he was not on the stool for five minutes when the entrance bell tinkled, indicating another customer.

Behind the transparent curtains, he saw a female figure that was not much smaller than him (maybe four or five inches, but he was too tall for his age).

He tried to pay attention to the conversation ("for Merlin's sake, anything but a Muggle-born girl trying to teach him about his own world"), but the tape measure flying around him made noise every time it opens.

But he picked up the words "Black," "Lady," and "Hogwarts," and his mind made a quick call between his mother's quick exit and this new person. So this girl was Lady Black? Was she going to school with him?

Knowing his mother, if this girl had more than three degrees of kinship away, there would be matchmaking thoughts in her mind.

But nothing prepared him for the girl who entered through the curtains. He would never be the same. She was not inferior, like Crabbe and Goyle, nor an equal, like Pansy or Blaise.

No, she was superior.

She walked gracefully, but there was a certain calculation in each step. Everything was just too perfect. The smile was extremely white, but not enough to look fake. The young woman seemed happy, but not to the point of seeming inelegant. She was upright, but she did not seem to have a broom handle tied behind her back.

The clothes had no kneading, and did not look like the witch fashion, but it could be French. Draco was sure he could see his own reflection in the medallion she wore around her neck. She had many family seals on her fingers, but from afar, he could never identify which ones were.

He felt her intelligent eyes in a hunger frame meet with his beneath the tuft of red hair, but he did not look away from the girl who seemed to examine him before smiling and taking help from an attendant to climb onto the stool beside him.

Then he started a conversation. Draco almost forgot his name when her voice talked back, gentle and cunning, searching and full of magic.

He tried not to show his surprise at the wealth and family of the girl, but it was complicated, since he was in front of (oh my holy Hecate) Lady Slytherin (and Heiress Peverell and Girl-Who-Lived, and not as golden as they imagined).

He realized that after going through her titles, there was a lot more about Cassiopeia. She was captivating, intelligent ("but how come you do not know Quidditch?") and did not talk about boring girl topics (except when it came to ordering the clothes for the attendants, but that was not addressed to him), quite different from Pansy, who just wanted to talk about make-up and gossip and muscled wizards in Quidditch magazines ("Pansy, these magazines are not made for models, these are players, and they're too old for you!" "Jealous, Draco?" "Blaise, Pansy is almost a sister to me" "I was talking about the players").

So this is what it feels like to match wits, with someone at his level! What is the catch? It was the feeling of freedom, of seeing the light. The conversation lasted two minutes, maybe three minutes, but everything they said in total agreement, it was a bit of a dream and a bit of a dance, a bit of a posture and a bit of a stance.

She was ... different. Obviously, Draco would not tell anyone that. His mother could hear or find out, and then he would think the two of them were a match set in Heaven. And he did not want to marry, even if it was his obligation.

Girls were becoming less disgusting, and he had start to get hormones ... But that did not mean he wanted to get married, or that girls his age were interesting.

Not even Cassiopeia Heather Potter. Not even her.

(at least that's what he said to himself)

Back to the Present

The blonde woke up from his thoughts as he felt the thin, delicate fingers of the girl in question touch his shoulders. He looked up from his knees and stared at the emerald orbs that watched him with a hint of amusement.

\- If you're back from your thoughts, dear friend, I think it's time to go. I have a time to meet with Professor Snape, and I do not think he would be happy if I was late. And he's a man I do not want to displease. - She winked, but her tone was serious.

\- I do not think you could displease my godfather, not even if you wanted to. He does not seek and live from the power of others, but he is still a serpent, and you are literally a Slytherin. - The boy smiled, indicating the green ring in her hand. - But you're correct, it's just rude to be late.

\- I am fortunate that some ancient magical families agreed in the Middle Ages that it was better to have a child, with no direct relative to be regent, as head of the family than a regent from outside the family, especially when this could be a muggleborn. - She shook her head, straightening up and hanging her bags (these with a spell to make them weightless) on her forearms.

Draco smiled, which made him wonder, since he did not smile that much normally. Then he stood up, bowing (a little caricature, he might admit), and she laughed softly behind her left hand. He kissed her other hand, and Cassy raised her face in a fake stance.

\- Milady, would your Majesty give the honor of accompanying you to this poor gentleman? - She lost the front and began to laugh, perhaps a little inappropriately high for a lady, but who cared?

\- Draco, you're anything but poor. Come on, oh brave gentleman, we have a lot to do and you have not told me anything about your other friends, and I'm sure you have many, confidants or facades.

Cassiopeia put the her hand on his forearm, where it would be appropriate, and began to walk. If she knew that witch society was so... Elizabethan (or Victorian?), she would have brought the fan that her aunt had taught her how to use it when she was eight. Or maybe an umbrella, one full of frills. Was her dress appropriate? Was she shocking the magic community with her calves? The thought almost made her laugh.

\- In fact, I have very few friends, I'm to good for the commonalty. - She giggled- The only people, besides you, who can possibly match my wits are Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise is a tall, dark-skinned boy with protruding cheekbones. His mother is known to ... get money from men about to die through marriage. They are influential, an old Italian pure blood family. - She remembered the boy from the pub, but discarded the memory.

\- He and his mother wishes his marriage to some prominent young woman, perhaps Pansy, perhaps the elder Greengrass, but if she discovers you, or rather, your hyphenated surname, and I do not doubt Mrs. Zabini will make sure your name will be at the top of the list. - She laughed through her hand again.

\- I am aware of the weight of my name and how much it will be interesting, whether for friendships or weddings. I hope you're not here because of this, dear. - She tested him, but he just smiled and brushed aside her worries with one hand.

\- You know I'm not, dear, I'm here because you're not insufferable or stupid. Well, going on. Pansy is the only daughter of Tiberius Parkinson, and with more money than his parents' presence. He has black hair and eyes. Her face reminds me a little of a dog, but never tell her I told you so. She does not want to get married, but her parents will only let her inherit something if she does. - He sighed, but internally thought it was good to finally talk equally with someone his age

\- It's unfair, but witch society is not very good for women, at least not for those who do not have five hundred titles and enough money to have anyone who challenges them killed.

\- Killing is a very strong term for a lady, Draco. But accidents happen, and if they happen to someone I ... I do not like, it's nothing but a coincidence of fate. Nothing can be directed to me. - She said with a shark smile.

\- At least nothing you can not erase with money. - He murmured, and she giggled.

\- Well, Draco, who else do you know?

\- I know Crabbe and Goyle, muscles without brains and not at all worth a minute of your hearing. There is also Theodore Nott, tall, serious, light hair and gray eyes almost black. His mother died when he was six. He uses knowledge as a weapon, and I always wondered whether he would be among us, Slytherins, or among the Ravenclaws.

\- "Among us"? What tells you that I will be in Slytherin? - She said with a laugh, and he gave her a smirk.

\- Besides the ring in your left hand, and the fact that you're likely to have to sleep in the chambers of your family and not among us, poor mortals, you're absorbing information from me like a sponge, and we both know it's not just for storage.

\- And you keep giving me information any way, my dear, so who is the Slytherin here? - They both laughed, still walking down the street toward the bookstore. Some curious glances followed her red hair ("the youngest Weasley has darker hair" "The Malfoy heir would never be with a Weasley" "you see how many rings in her fingers?" "Young Malfoy is escorting her?" "she is pretty") and his blonde one, both ignoring other people with a look of natural superiority.

\- There are the Greengrass sisters, coming from a neutral family very old, somehow with little knowledge of ancient traditions, but deeply interested. They are emerging from a bankrupt, must have around a half hundred thousand galleons in the bank. Parents work at St. Mungos as specialists in their fields. The youngest is only two years younger than us, but she is already looking for marriage contracts, seeing that she will not inherit anything. - Cassiopeia was enjoying all the gossip.

Blackmail was something useful, and she had the feeling she would not like the Greengrass sisters, at least not the youngest (women should be strong, not desperate). They enter the library, and start talking lower.

\- And what are the names of these girls? Physical description too, you are my friend, or so you say, and can not let me make a public gaffe. - She huffed and he laughed lowly.

\- The older one has blonde hair, almost gold, and cold blue eyes. Her name is Daphne, she's our age. The younger one, as I told you, is two years younger, has brown hair and hazel eyes. Her name is Astoria, and she's very, very annoying. - He said, delivering to her a book on all the magical lineages (or at least the famous enough).

\- Well, well ... Draco, you know better than to speak ill of less influential people in public places.

The two turned, surprised to hear a male voice (and very young) speak behind them. Cassiopeia then saw the pub kid, dark skin and piercing eyes, his hair cut close to his head. She did not take long to make the call, and bowed her head.

\- I suppose you are Blaise. It's my pleasure, Heir Zabini.

The boy's eyes shifted from Draco to her, looking up and down at her discreetly and pausing for a few seconds to face the rings on her fingers.

\- Then Draco was gossiping again, for I would remember meeting such a beautiful lady. The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss ...? - The young man said, bending to kiss her hand. She raised an eyebrow, and the blond at her side looked strangely apathetic.

\- Cassiopeia, Cassiopeia Potter-Black-Slytherin.

Unlike the youngster Malfoy, who had been perplexed by her titles for at least five minutes, Blaise did not even hesitate. He smiled charmingly and straightened up, glancing at the boy who had accompanied her there.

\- I believe my friend escorted you here? - With her amused confirmation, he continued, watching the blond with a predatory look - Draco, Draco, Draco ... You know you can not keep a beauty like this just for you. Were not you going to introduce us?

\- Of course... not. Cassiopeia did not need a vulture surrounding her as if she were fresh meat. - He gave the dark-haired boy a smile that transpired falsehood.

\- Can you stop talking about me like I'm not here, gentlemen? - The two boys had the decency to look ashamed, but Cassy suspected that both had been trained to fake such behavior. - Draco, my dear, I am not a piece of flesh and I do not remember asking for your protection, although this is appreciated, but not against interesting people. - She delineated the word "interesting" well, and young Zabini seemed to blossom in praise, the whole facade of shame now gone. - And Mr. Zabini, I do not think I belong to anyone to be held, I'm only recently in witch society.

The young lady, as she finished speaking, turned to the shelf again, ignoring the glances exchanged over her shoulders by the two heirs.

Her eyes fell on a book with gold letters: "Customs and Greetings, the 101 Rules of a Witch Lady," written by Madame Potts. She did not recognize the author, but put the book in the basket.

\- So Lady Potter, if I may shorten your title, I see you're interested in books on ... pure blood culture. I have some more complete volumes at home, with some somewhat more ... controversial subjects. If you are interested, I can send them by owl for you. - Blaise said after clearing his throat quietly, breaking the silence that lingered between the three of them.

\- Of course, my dear. You can call me Cassiopeia, or Cassy, seeing my first name is a lot. My whole title is very long and complicated, and it still includes my future inheritances. - She gave him a dazzling smile.

\- So I insist that you call me Blaise, my lady. Would you mind my company? - The boy replied, smiling.

Draco still seemed at all very bored with the whole exchange, or maybe it was because he had not been introduced to the girl's nickname. He made a mental note then, to create a different nickname just for him to use.

\- Of course not, Blaise. - The name flowed like honey through her tongue - Now, since I already have the schoolbooks, and I believe you will also use those of your family if you are smart as I think you are, what do you recommend as extra reading?

An hour later, her basket was filled with various books about ancient culture, laws, schools, countries, magic centers, wars, fables (the best way to know a folk is knowing their stories and their music) and relevant people.

The three then walked to the stationery part (was this also called in the magical world?). Different types of scrolls shone on the shelves: of all colors (some alternated between all the rainbows); some were being written with a quill, only for the ink to disappear a few seconds later; some were thin, others thick. Some made sounds, they seemed to read aloud.

There was a wide variety of quills, some simple and flat, some (like the Fwooper quills) more beautiful, others reinforced with magical properties.

Numerous types of feathers were used, including pheasant, eagle, peacock and perhaps... that was Phoenix?

The young Potter, for the amusement of the two boys, acted like a girl of her own age, practically forgetting all her manners and assembling various things, which came from an adapted Muggle pen (it had the tip of a quill and was inlaid with swarovski crystals ) to a nightingale quill.

In particular, a Quetzal quill, which because of its colorful plumage, was very fashionable (at least, that's what Blaise said).

Ink cartridges of all colors, with dull and invisible ink (even if the blonde had warned him that the teachers would allow at most the ink of the darker shade of the colors of the house they led, but in general, only black).

Parchment enough to last a year (and a little more, but she would always make a few extra feet in her school essays, and her handwriting was too big ... or so she said to herself).

She also bought boxes of red, green, gray and black wax, so she could seal her letters with her family stamps (depending on which person the letter would go).

Stamps, ribbons (for multicolored homework), design scrolls (for parchment), scissors (a list of common material would have one, and for good reason, magic scissors had protection spells to prevent people from inadvertently cutting themselves), tape glue-everything (she was graceful, but very prone to accidents), the magical variation of post-its (she would not give up her organization by color) and blotters came later, more like extras.

The two boys, despite having all this variety of things at home, indulged themselves with some new feathers with expensive beaks and two or three pots of rare-colored paint (it was quite common for limited batches of new color paints to be market as an experiment to see public acceptance).

An attendant, very happy with how much the girl was buying, smiled at her and came to her aid, putting her purchases in weightless bags and noting the products. The tag on her dusty apron read "Margaery Tyrell," and Cassy could not help but think she looked a bit like a squirrel, but pretty. She had a small, rounded nose and high cheekbones, her face framed by long brown hair, small medieval braids preventing them from falling on her face.

After putting the basket of books on the counter along with the bags, she smiled at the young woman, who was not much older than twenty.

\- So, how much did I spend? - She remembered seeing a percentage of the store in her blood test, but if she got what she wanted from the stores she had stocks for, she would not spend a penny of her money (and she surely like to spend her own money, to feel independent and free).

Cass did not mind paying for these small things, or her clothes, but if she had to buy something a bit too expensive, she wouldn't mind not paying.

\- It was exactly seventy-three galleons, five sickles and two knuts. - The girl counted a hundred gold pieces from her purse and smiled at the older teenager, seeing forgotten dreams amidst the dust of the books and wrinkles of almost painful and false smiles, given to rude strangers that she was obliged to attend to all days.

\- Keep the change - The brunette tried to refuse the money, but the redhead insisted, almost pushing the metal into her hands. - And if you're interested in a better job, say, as my secretary, and I really need one, send an owl to Lady Potter-Black.

The girl collected her purchases under Margaery's amazed gaze, and left the shop with the boys on her heels.

\- What was ... all this? - Said the Italian, confused, after ten seconds of silence between the trio. Cassy smiled smartly, and looked docilely at the boy.

\- Allies by fear, blackmail, or power can betray you, and probably will, at the slightest sign that you are weak, that your blackmail can be circumvented or that there is someone more powerful out there. But allies of gratitude and loyalty will let you kill their parents and applaud at the end. - The two boys began to realize the danger of a loyal, kind Potter, especially mixed with the blood of a snake, and both of them shivered.

They crossed the alley, again under curious glances speculating about the redhead and her escorts, mainly because the two boys were recognized among the higher circles as highly sought-after suitors, and marriage proposals were often sent by owls, on an almost daily basis, to their homes.

\- Now that we have our clothes and books, Draco, and I think you too, Blaise - The boy nodded - What is missing? Everyone present here probably has enough potion ingredients to fill three small houses, so what do you prefer: go look at our cauldrons, scales and telescopes, or animals? Let's leave our wands, the best part, for the end.

After everyone agreed (not before a bit of disagreement between Blaise and Draco, since the former seemed to live to provoke the blond) to go to the materials first, when they noticed that the animals probably weighed and made more noise.

The shop was dark, and there were cauldrons of all kinds. The youngest Malfoy was charmed by a diamond cauldron, which made little rainbows on the floor around him (the other boy had to hold his laughter for almost five minutes until the salesman pulled away and he could lean on a shelf next to him with Cassy), and Cassiopeia could not deny that the golden cauldron was unattractive. They finally resigned to the pewter, standard size number 2.

The trio, however, bought the most expensive set of crystal they found, with all the spells of resistance that could be put (and Draco complained until he could put a scintillating spell on his, although Cassy bet his godfather was not going to be very happy about it).

Also a telescope, with improved approach spells, the two boys' being the same (silvery, with traces of green that resembled snakes and slightly greenish lenses), and Cassiopeia's one being slightly different (it was completely silvery, with black lines at each opening).

The balances were of platinum, with weights of lead, markings of numbers indicating their weight of the same color of the scale; they paid the man behind the counter, a nice chubby red-cheeked man, almost bald, to engrave their full names at the base of all purchased items, and cast spells against theft and alteration.

\- For our wands now? I do not think Ollivander will allow animals in his shop. - They agreed, and this time the way to the store was filled with tales and laughter, especially about Draco's adventures with potions when he was younger and Blaise's travels to his mother's home country, descriptions of the land of wine and landscapes worthy of postcards.

-... and then we visited the Colosseum. Next summer, if you are interested, we can spend a week there; I'm sure you would love to see the monuments, Cassy. I know Draco saw it, but he would not mind going again, would he? - The boy in question just shook his head, memories of last summer with Blaise and Pansy in Italy still fresh in his head. He was sure his new friend would love it. The girl nodded.

\- I'm emancipated, but I do not think it's too hard to ask my aunt. I am sure that if another girl is going and we are supervised by at least one adult, she will not mind. - They all laughed.

\- Do not worry about your reputation, my mother will be there, and Lady Malfoy probably on an almost daily basis. Pansy will never miss a chance to travel. It's a shame she's not here, she'd love to meet you.

\- For all you talk about her, I'm sure it's mutual. - She smiled, genuinely eager to meet the famous Parkinson, who seemed to complete the other two dynamics.

The shop's display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. Peeling gold letters over the door of the shop read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Draco pushed open the old wood door, and it creaked before opening to revel a tiny, empty space except for a single, spindly chair in the corner.

Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it, as if abandoned.

The three of them stepped in, footsteps lifting the dust off the floor and making Cassy cough softly. A very old man, with almost coriaceous, wrinkled skin and thinning white hair, a look almost haunted in pale blue eyes. His clothes were worn out and he smiled mysteriously at the sight of the trio.

\- Destiny has funny ways of playing with people. I was expecting the visit of the three today, I just did not expect them at the same time. That changes everything ... But I think I'm harassing you with my ramblings. I believe you are here for their wands ... Who will go first?

\- The ladies first, Cassiopeia. - Said Draco, teasing her with a fake bow.

\- So go ahead, Draco. - She said with the most polite smile she could give. Blaise snorted, and the blonde, although laughing internally, went ahead pretending to be offended.

\- Draco Malfoy... You know, I remember every wand I made. Narcissa Black, it was like yesterday that the middle Black sister was here together with , cherry, with unicorn core ... 10 1/2 inches, very good for spells ... A very flexible and protective wand. Lucius Malfoy, elm, a wand not at all flexible, the complete opposite of his mother's. Dragon heart core, 12 inches, very fickle, but good for transfiguration and defense of the dark arts. I think the wand is on his cane today? - The boy was a little startled, but nodded. T

he man then pulled out one of the boxes from one of the shelves and opened it, showing a not too long wand.

\- Guess you are ambidextrous? - The blonde nodded again, now freaked with the man's knowledge - Most of the pure blood children are.

\- Pine, phoenix core, 8 1/2 inches, more or less flexible, good for transfiguration. - Draco gave it a flick, and fire lighted in the man's desk.

\- No, no, I guess no, too imprecise. Try this, eleven inches, sequoia, unicorn hair core ... Very good for defense, flexible. - This time, the boy almost make Cassy dress on fire.

They tried ten more wands, without success. Draco was already starting to get angry, if the lines on his face were any sign. The boy next to the girl was holding her laughter biting her lower lip as she tightened her gloves into the pockets of her dress, the bags on the floor, and her body against the counter.

\- Try this, 10" in length, made of hawthorn wood, and unicorn hair core. Reasonably flexible, very good for defense and transfiguration. - Ollivander held out the new wand, and the blonde caught it awkwardly.

Oddly enough, it fit perfectly between the boy's fine, long fingers. He waved, and a stream of wind swept through him, not messing with his hair just because of the absurd amount of gel that kept his blond hair glued to his head.

The younger Malfoy looked very pleased with himself. Cassiopeia then gave a slight nudge at Blaise, urging him forward.

\- Then you're next ... Of course, I did not have the pleasure of making your mother's wand, hers was an old Gregorovitch creation, and your father's one was a dubious, untrustworthy wand, and worked perfectly with him until its betrayal for a more powerful master. But since he is no longer in service, I will have to do... Ambidextrous too, I suppose ... Try this, sweet chestnut wood, unicorn hair. 11 inches, slightly flexible, good for rune-crafting and attack.

The young Zabini failed only five times, before a 9 1/2-inch oak wand with a dragon heart core, excellent for runes and charms, slightly flexible. A gentleman's wand. Cassy was very happy with the development, since yet again her dress was in danger.

\- Now you, my lady. You look a lot like your mother, from the eyes to the hair, but without the freckles. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more stunning power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I said your father favored it - but it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. But, strangely some may say, you look more like your godfather than your father. Sirius Black, I would never suspect that a boy so intelligent and different from his family would turn out to be….. If Lily was not so faithful, I'd say it was not the adoption of blood that made you so ... Black.

The old man shook his head, like he was sad. Draco was strangely quiet, he knew the Imperius was what controlled his father, even if most people didn't believe. Blaise was neutral, and wasn't born in England (nor his mom care for this kind of thing), but he put his hand on the blond's shoulder, as a sign of support.

\- Try this, eight-inch, willow, dragon heart fiber core; Flexible, good for transfiguration.

Cassy tried more what felt like more than twenty wands, and none seemed right. She broke the counter, the windowpane, almost set fire to Draco's robes (a little subconcience revenge, she admitted to herself), and under the scrutiny of Blaise's laughter, she nearly destroyed one of the shelves.

She managed to change her hair color two times (to blue and green), rip one of her bags and a spell went out the broken window and knocked over a passerby (Draco howled in laughter, losing all his composure as he recognized the idiotic Gilderoy Lockhart. Blaise retained his manners until some old lady fainted at the sight of the celebrity)

Cassiopeia had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, until she had found the one that suited her — this one, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Mr Ollivander had been very surprised that Cassy had been so compatible with this wand.

"Curious," he had said, "curious," and not until they asked what was curious the old man started explaining that the phoenix feather in her wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Lord Voldemort's.

\- The wand chooses the wizard. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore... These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand... I expect great things for you, Lady Potter, if they are good or bad is a mistery, but great things any way. This is your wand, but only one will work perfectly with one of your kin. Your blood claim for the greatest wand, and you shall gain it before you end the school.

\- Expect only neutral from me, sir. - They nodded for each other, and the trio payed their new wands (seven galleons for each), and walked outside, in the direction of the Magical Menagerie.

\- How this things only happen to you? - Said the blonde, still a bit astonished.

\- I don't know, my dear friend, but I guess is the pitfalls of being the Girl-Who-Lived. - The trio laughed, under the increasingly curious stares of the commonwealth. Cassy was only luck that her scar was not that big, and no one was smart enough to make the connection with her mom.

As the pet store was just across the street, none of them tried to start a conversation. Blaise opened the door and held it for the two of them to enter, even if he received a stomp on the foot, courtesy of Draco, for that. The place was tight, and the empty cages on the outside with a rotten plaque already gave the idea of what it would be.

Several cages lined up with all kinds of animals: cats of all colors, kneazles with pointed ears, sleeping owls, bright orange slugs, frogs and salamanders dividing a gaunt tank, black and white rats, snails rising up the walls of a glass tank, snakes of all sizes (Cassy was almost sure to hear one of them talk), mini pigs with fat noses, pigeons piling up with tropical birds, cute puffskeins, huge eagles and even some dogs with two tails.

\- What do you want today, my lady and gentlemen? Maybe an owl to carry your mail, or a cat to keep you company in the winter? - Said a girl with her head slightly bent, the label on her apron naming her as "Myrcella," with no last name.

Cassy knew she owned a large part of the Magical Menagerie, and she could put that girl in the management, since the manager wasn't doing a very good job. The place was maltreated, and the smell was terrible. She was not disinterested in her work as Margaery, no, she caressed a cat carefully. The young Potter smiled to the blonde attendant.

\- Good morning, Miss. I want to look at some animals to take to Hogwarts, and seeing that the school has its own owls, I'd rather look at some magical cats. - The clerk did not even hesitate ("proficient, and does not ask many questions," thought the young lady, with pleasure), and directed her to a shelf full of cages of cats of all sizes and colors.

\- You will be better satisfied with a kitten, these are easier to cling to and train. These here already have training to do their needs in the right place. And they are half-kneazles, who live a lot more and are much smarter. - She pointed to the larger cage on the right, where several kittens (part kneazles, seen by the most pointed ears and the longer tail) played with yarns of wool.

Cassiopeia was immediately in love with an extremely hairy cat, bright blue eyes barely visible. It was larger than the others and entirely white. She pointed to it.

\- Oh, I see you like this one. It is a main coon cub with a kneazle. It does not have a name yet, and only forty days of life. The mother rejected it, so I did not have much life expectancy for her. You will have to feed with special milk, it will give some work for the next ten or fifteen days.

\- I want her anyway. I will also need a cage, preferably as comfortable as possible, but also luxurious, platinum and silk, with heating charms. - She saw what she wanted in the top of a shelf, with small roses of white gold around the bars - All the best food she'll need at least until I'm on school, and a catalog for me to buy more then; two or three toys, although I'm sure she'll prefer a cardboard box, so not so expensive. - She looked around and pointed one fake magic mouse that moved around, a black fluffy ball and a never-ending rope scraper - They, and special milk, of course, as well as a hygienic sandbox, I'm sure there's a magic one that cleans itself. - Her friends were looking at owls while she was ordering.

She looked into the eyes of the attendant, who seemed a little frightened at all the fuss, but more amazed by her present (it was obvious that the girl loved animals).

\- Do not tell anyone I was here, or you can not only lose a chance to rise in life, but also more important things. - The young woman nodded, scared, and the Potter sighed - Put the cat in his cage, and shrink the rest for me. How much did all this cost?

\- The cat cost twenty galleons; enough milk for the next fifteen days, seven liters will be enough, then seven more galleons; enough food until September, there will be twenty galleons and ten sickles; the toys will be a galleon; - The young woman began reading from a list in her hand, written by a Quick-Quotes Quill, never losing the professionalism. - The cage, fifty galleons, and the permanent charm comes with a rune, then another eleven sickles; the sandbox, with all the charms, plus thirteen galleons.  In all, there will be a hundred and two galleons and four sickles, my lady.

The girl took two hundred and fifty galleons from her purse and handed it to the young woman, who was packing the objects and transferring the cat from the common cage.

\- The change is your tip, after all, I'm a good Londoner. - Everybody laugh before the attendant turn herself to the boys. Meanwhile, the prospective student took the bags to add to her growing number (at least they had no weight).

\- And what do you wish, gentlemen? - Draco stared at a black harpy ruffling her feathers, proud, her sharp claws scratching the fake nest she was in., while Blaise admired a lazy-looking Siamese cat, lying in his lonely cage.

They eventually bought the animals and the whole batch of accessories, before bidding farewell to the clerk and leaving the store, when Cassy realized she had only fifteen minutes.

\- Well, gentlemen, now I'm afraid I have to go to the pub: My "ride" waits for me, and I do not think he'd like my delay. Will you escort me there? - Draco gave her an exaggerated bow, and since his mother would also get him there, and Blaise would be coming home alone, they both agreed. The whispers of the people were largely ignored during their walk, since they had much more fun subjects to talk about.

(Draco didn't find Blaise's story about last summer any funny this time. It wasn't his fault that he didn't now how to swim!)


	6. I'll Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorting and train and things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm getting better at writing. I'm enjoying far too much this fanfiction, but I didn't forget about Killer Queen and it will be actualized soon.

**_ONE MONTH LATER_ **

It had been a month since Cassiopeia had seen Blaise and Draco in the alley. She spent the last fifteen minutes of her shopping day drinking butterbeer with both boys at the farthest table from the counter.

To the surprise of the girl, Professor Snape did not seem surprised at her companies, but pleased with himself (he had the smug grin of a cat who caught the canary), as if he knew something that no one else did.

He greeted the blonde, and it took only a bit of time for Lady Zabini and Lady Malfoy to enter the establishment, talking about the last gossip of the wizarding world (something about the man she stunned accidentally in the wand shop).

Both older women seemed happy to see the girl associating with their children, and a glance at Cassy's thin fingers was enough to make them look pensive.

They introduced themselves, bowing slightly, and the young Potter replied with a little less grace, seeing that she did not have the same practice of ladies' decays, but good enough for smiles to appear on their faces, smiles that only increased as she introduced herself (now the potions teacher seemed surprised, for as long as he knew James Potter, he had no idea he had any title _other_ than Lord Potter, and Lily, as far as he knew, had no wizard or squib ancestor, and they had searched actively and extensively in her fourth year).

They had to go then, noticing the amount of people increasing in the fall of the night, some retiring to sleep on the upper floors of the pub, and some sitting down to dinner or drinking with friends.

The return trip was short, and after the man helped her to put her trunk into the house, he handed her the ticket for the train, which indicated the platform 9 1/2, explaining quickly how to reach it (crossing a column of bricks. It sounded a bit fake, but she did not care. For all Cass knew, she would _jump of a bridge to a pool of chemicals_ if they told her that Hogwarts was in the bottom of it).

The teacher disappeared into a " _pop_ ", and entered the house under the attentive and curious gaze of her aunt, withdrawing her purchases from the trunk.

Petunia had her try on all the clothes, show all the colors of paint and caress the cat for a while (the kitten, having been abandoned by her mother, was touch-starved, and purred very easily).

They ended up deciding together the name of the pet (it turned out to be _Kralitsa_ , after much looking at dictionaries on Dudley's old computer).

After, she distracted the woman with Madame Malkins' catalogs, with magical perfumery and jewelry, and showing off her gloves (from silk, fur, satin, velvet and even dragon hide), socks (delicate  for school and thick for sleeping), cloaks, dresses (the standard fashion of the wizarding world, that is, up to the ankles and beyond), garments and shoes (she did not buy the ones made of varnish or velvet because she had them in abundance, but the ones with resistance to mud and rain, galoshes, and leather boots, for she knew for a fact that Hogwarts was in Ireland, and probably had no _asphalt_ there, since the wizards still used parallelepiped or cobbled streets).

And, of course, her own school uniform. She bought six skirts, two of gray wool, two of black wool, and two pleats of cotton dyed gray, all knee-high. Six white shirts with buttons, three of cotton and three of silk; Two cardigans, one black and one gray (she refused to wear sweaters), all of V collar;

A single pair of black tights, seeing that she had them at home; Four silk ties and two pointy hats (although Cassy bought other types of hat, such as those worn by British royalty, beautiful summer hats, and even one suitable for a funeral, cause no one knows what is coming in the future).

The robes were lined with silk on the inside and velvet on the outside, her buttons had colored stones and crystals on them, since she would not resign herself to the standard cotton robes, or, Hecate would not allow, _polyester_.

The rest of the summer was spent in programs between her and her aunt (her uncle and cousin finally made the trip with _detestable_ Aunt Marge to Majorca, and the two women spent August watching movies, going to the zoo or shopping, dancing, playing the piano and violin, playing with _Kralitsa_ or just reading in the same room) and studying her new books of magic, all the customs and rules of pure blood (Cassiopeia sighed in relief when she realized she had not made any _big_ mistakes, though she was still ashamed for the few gaffes committed), owling her two new friends, taking care of her pets and packing her clothes (or at least the ones the girl thought she would need, that is at least a quart of her wardrobe) and personal belongings (thanks to Merlin the trunk was huge inside, otherwise it would be impossible to fit so much makeup, jewelry, books, clothes and portraits, as well as school material itself).

The most feared and awaited day for Cassiopeia came fast, August passing like leaves in the fall. When the girl noticed, her trunk was packed, and in the living room; Kralitsa, or _Kali_ , as the cat came to be called, was in its cage, her bright blue eyes staring at everything around her through the platinum bars; Her aunt was almost in tears at breakfast (especially with her favorite pancakes), and in a heartbeat, she was dressing to leave Surrey for the next three months.

She put on one of her finest gowns, a navy blue that was longer behind than the front (where it reached her knees), the pleated skirt was separated from the upright by a strip of the same color of the dress, shoulders covered by it transparent material of the dress she used to go to the alley, small vineyards embroidered along the collar and three-quarters sleeves.

Beige pantyhose with varnished Mary Janes completed the outfit, and a pair of crystals adorned her ears, and of course the five family rings. Her red hair was smooth with small curls parting from the middle of her back to her thighs.

Then the young lady came down the stairs, face in a mixture of anxiety and _fear_. There was sadness there too, because she would not see her aunt (and practically best friend) for the next few months, and at Christmas it was very likely she would only see her for a week or two.

A bag of money was in the strip of her dress, and she took one of her long cloaks (of cashmere, lined with vicuna, with inner pockets and two silver buttons, the hood covering most of her face), which she had placed with the trunk, and dressed on her clothes, placing the wand (never used, because of age restrictions) in the inner pocket closest to her hand (she would buy a sheath the next time she went to Diagon Alley).

Petunia was waiting for her, in a tight dress, with long, tight sleeves and a high collar. Entirely black, velvet, it ended shortly after her bony knees. Her long neck seemed smaller, and she wore little makeup, just enough to accentuate her small lips.

Her blond hair fell in waves to her waist, since she had not cut them once since the girl came to live with her, as an example.

The older woman threw a black overcoat over her shoulders, pulling on a pair of black gloves. The girl, as in a farewell ritual, slowly put on her own gloves, the same color as her dress.

Without saying anything to each other, they took the trunk and the cat to Petunia's car (Vernon decided to extend the vacation for another week, to " _relax with Dudley, for the poor boy was going to a new phase in life_." Obviously he did not worry at all that his niece would not be back for three months).

The belongings were placed in the backseat, and without any word Petunia drove to King's Cross while Cassy fiddled with the tip of her dress. Every noise made them both jump, look at each other briefly and return to silence. The muggle parked the car, and helped the little witch carry her things to the barrier that would separate them in more ways than one.

\- So ... - The older woman said, clearing her throat, her fingers firmly wrapped around the handle of the trunk - I guess that's it. I can not go beyond here.

\- Yes ... I think it is. - Cassiopeia felt her voice tighten, the tears insisting to emerge in her eyes the same color as the curse that killed her parents.

Parents who, somewhere beyond heaven and infinity, were smiling as they watched their daughter enter their world. The girl then felt the pressure to hit like a huge rock: She was leaving for the first time without the guidance of her aunt to put into practice everything she had learned in the last years.

A silent sob escaped her lips, and she ran into the open arms of the woman who had raised her as a mother.

\- Auntie ... I'm scared... I'm so _scared_...

\- I know, my little star. But there is nothing to fear. - The words were filled with tears, and one of the woman's pale hands caressed the red hair of the girl's hair, pulling them away from her face and giving her a smile. - You will do perfectly, and if not, I assure you: There will be no problem. You're just a girl, the most precious girl in the world to me.

\- But ... But ... But ... what if I scream at someone important? Or lose control of my temper? Or do not make any _real_ friends?

\- Believe me, they will love you. You're the best kid I've ever met. You do not have to be afraid. I'll be here when you come back. I'll be here forever. - The woman smiled at the girl and kissed her forehead, before wiping the tears and turning her towards the barrier.

\- Do you promise? - Cassy looked at her aunt with a serious look.

\- I promise. Now, go. It's time. - The young woman walked towards the brick wall, recovering her cold expression and erasing the vestiges of tears. - Goodbye my dear niece. - She whispered to herself, seeing the girl go.

\- Goodbye, my dear aunt - On the other side of the barrier, the girl whispered back. It felt like an end.

Regaining her composure, Cassiopeia walked to the train, and tried unsuccessfully to lift the trunk (not that it was so heavy, but it was larger than her arms).

Two boys, twins with bright red hair, came toward her with double bright smiles. She did not know though that they were wandering around to stay away from their family (" _Bunch of extortors, all looking for young Potter just because of her fame and money, poor thing. I hope Ronald has not found her yet, that idiot, always following what our mother says, good for nothing_ " were their identical thoughts as Fred and George watched their family making plans to approach the girl, under " _Dumbledore's advice, since she would need a nice and_  light _witch_ _family to guide her_ ").

\- Need help with that, miss? - Said the tallest - I'm Gred, and this is Forge ...

\- ... And we are Fred and George! - She laughed lightly at the two boys' antics.

\- The pleasure is all mine, gentlemen. I'm Cassiopeia, but you can call me Cassy. - One of them grabbed her right gloved hand and kissed it, while the other did the same with her left.

They also pretended not to notice the amount of rings on her fingers, or the scar on her forehead, and so she was very happy.

Then they hurried to push her trunk up onto the train and into an empty compartment as she carried the cage with Kali.

\- Thank you very much, gentlemen. - She smiled to them, and, to her amusement, they bowed in synchronize.

\- Pleasure is all ours, my lady. Now, we have to go. And we warn you, for your _welfare_ : Lock the cabin door and do not let our little brother in, no matter what. He has no manners, and is full of himself. Ronald is your age, and very much like us physically. If he shows up, pretend to be asleep or deaf. - They winked while she laughed, and left to mislead their family about her localization.

She was such a great girl, and George thought she was very pretty, even if she was almost two years younger, and he blushed. Fred just laughed, knowing exactly what was on his twin's mind, as always. There was _nothing_ one could hide from the other.

She did as she was told, as she had a bit of trust in the twins (also Draco couldn't say a good thing about the Weasleys, though George and Fred were kinda _cool_ ), locked the door and took a book from her trunk. Then the girl closed the window and let go of Kali, who hurried to lie down comfortably beside her.

She had barely gone through five pages when knocks were heard at the door. She glanced subtly at who was disturbing her peace of mind, and saw a boy who matched the description of the twins. He was red, freckled, and tall, and his nose was dirty, which _disgusted_ her. He ignored the knock on the door, though the boy grew more and more insistent, and for a few seconds she thought he would try to break into the cabin.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes imperceptibly (it was not the attitude of a lady to roll her eyes, even when annoyed or bored), and kept reading, but the boy did not seem to give up. If she was at Hogwarts, she would try to use a spell of silence, but Cass did not want to see the consequences if she casted the spell in a wrong way.

To his apparent salvation, a very familiar blond boy came down the corridor, flanked by an Italian and a girl with short, straight black hair, the fringe falling in her eyes.

Draco saw the scene unfolding in front of him and gave Weasley a look of disapproval, a look that turned cold and filled with anger when he noticed exactly in the booth of whom the redhead was trying to enter, or else, break in.

\- Get out of here, Weasel. Of course she does not want to talk to you. Is your family already that poor, that you have to try and _steal_ of an high-society lady? - Ronald's fist tightened - Or did you come to _beg_? - He said with disdain.

\- And you think she'd want to... - Before the boy could complete his sentence, there was a click of metal against metal. Cassy pushed the latch off the door and opened it, standing in the doorway of the cabin, arms folded pulling the cloak closer.

\- Draco, darling, what are you doing standing there? Do not you know it's impolite to leave a lady _waiting_? - She frowned to the blonde, before smiling at the three of them. Blaise kissed her hand before the blonde could reach her, grinning at the other boy's frown.

\- Blaise, always the gentleman. - The short-haired girl laughed behind the white glove that covered her hand, which contrasted well with her white fur coat and light green dress.

\- And I believe you are Pansy Parkinson? The boys did not stop talking about you. - She bowed slightly, smiling bigger at the beautiful face of the future Slytherin.

\- You can be sure that yourself was the only subject among our group of friends, milady. Astoria was deeply jealous of your private and _vivacious_ correspondence with Draco. - Cassy vaguely remembered the mention of the younger Greengrass, and the girl seemed very arrogant if she thought she could rival the young lady.

\- I do not see why. It's not as if a ... _Second born_ could be rival to me in any way. - Pansy looked away not to laugh, but an amused small giggle escaped her lips.

Parkinson had never really liked the younger brunette girl, who made ten years only three months before, and was already wearing makeup enough to rival a clown for the purpose of attracting the attention of older pureblood heirs or young lords.

\- Come in soon, it's cold outside my cabin and I would very much like to keep _unwanted_ people outside.

She entered again, and the three purebloods followed, laughing silently at the shocked face of the inconvenient boy. Pansy was the last to come in, and quietly locked the door behind her.

\- Well, this guy was really inconvenient. Thank you for saving me. - She stroked her cat's head as the three newcomers put their trunks up. - And, really, it's a pleasure to meet you, Heiress Parkinson.

\- The pleasure is all mine, Lady Potter-Black-Slytherin. - She bowed slightly.

\- First of all, call me Cassy, or Cassiopeia if you are uncomfortable with my nickname. My title is a mouthful. - Pansy smiled, now cherishing Kali herself.

\- You can call me Pans then. I heard a lot about you.

\- Draco was gossiping again, was not he? He is such an _old_ lady sometimes. - Everybody laughed, except for the boy in question, who blushed.

\- Draco gossips more than I do, and he has not stopped talking about you since you both met in the Alley, it's getting a little bit tiring. If I start talking about birds, he can redirect the subject to you. It's a wonderful skill. - Cassiopeia glanced at Draco, who blushed even more furiously at Blaise's laughter.

\- No ... it's not ... no ... It's not quite that way ... not quite, okay? - They stifled a laugh at Draco's vehement protests. - I just ... I just commented ... because ... because ... because of the titles, that's why!

\- And what does the hair " _red as the roses of the mansion_ " and the eyes " _as green as the French fields_ " have to do with it? - Said Blaise, teasing the blonde, and the redhead blushed and cleared her throat.

\- It is good to know that he holds me in such high esteem. - She smothered - Blaise also talked a lot about you, without stopping, if you want to know the truth, Pans. - It was the Italian's turn to blush as the blonde laughed. Cassiopeia sighed relieved as she divert the attentions of the others.

The girls then began gossiping, young Potter eager to learn more about everything that was going on behind closed doors and shushed whispers. She could have read a lot, but she still did not have a Witch Weekly or a Prophet signature.

Subjects ranged from celebrities (" _Did you read about Lockhart?" "Yeah, I know who he is, I stunned him accidentally" "He's very handsome, but I do not believe half his books." "It's a bit absurd and he does not prove with anything. Also, he looks a little ... perverted_ "), to a competition of who saw the worst student (" _I think I saw one that looked like a squirrel with a nest of birds in place of her hair" "I saw a boy trembling from his own shadow" "The Weasleys are not all bad, the twins warned me of the younger brother and they helped me with the trunk in the train" "Perhaps not all the fruits of the tree are rotten, I have learned that the two older brothers have respectable jobs in Gringotts and in Romania" "Running away from home?" "I would run too, and far away, especially if I had a good name like Prewett to inherit"_ ) passing by their disgust for the uniform (" _It's horrendous" "I know!" "The skirt is rude and her size is completely wrong" "It's too long to be a pleated skirt, and too short to be traditional" "The shirt and tie are acceptable, I think" "I agree, but the socks ... ridiculous ... Black tights ... with Mary Janes ... I prefer beige or white, they're more natural." "And the hat? I'm not even going to start with how stereotyped it is." "And I refuse to wear the coarse wool sweaters, just cashmere cardigans_ ") and then, scheming in whispers (" _We are a bit too young to boys, but I heard that you need a good suitor" "Yes, sadly" "Or, you could be under the protection of a house bigger than yours. I do not think your parents would object if the "Noblest and Old House Black" gave you protection, Pans_ ").

While the girls talked and exchanged tips on spells, family and hair (Pansy's hair was short because she, in an act of rebellion which she regretted too much, cut her hair and was still punished for it by magic, since the treads refused to grow back), the boys were playing chess, sometimes looking at the whispering girls warily (" _Who knows what they're scheming_ ").

The candy cart passed, and as the boys filled their trunks with sweets, the girls picked up only licorice wands and chocolate frogs, since they would both get packages from home the other day (before going to bed today, Cassy would send an owl to his aunt, who had promised to send La Cure Gourmande chocolate, and some Belgian chocolate as well as weekly jelly packs).

A girl (with squirrel teeth and hair like a bird's nest, just as Pansy described it), tried to open the door unceremoniously, and seeing that it was locked, looked a little irritated before moving on.

Soon a monitor knocked on the doors, and Draco opened. The boy, with red and freckled hair, told them to change, and he was angry when the blond (already tired of Weasleys) nodded and slammed the door.

The boys went into another compartment to change, while the girls lowered the shutters of the door and exchanged their beautiful dresses for the school clothes.

Her uniforms were identical, except that Pansy's shoes were low-heeled and she wore satin gray stockings that went above her knee, while Cassy's shoes were flat, and her black silk socks only ran down the middle of her calf.

They put the robes (those of Pansy with black stones serving as buttons and those of Cassy with small crystals) and the redhead locked Kali on her cage again, feeling the cold autumn wind to hit them as soon as they went to the hall to find the boys.

Not finding the two heirs among the students who crowded out of the train, stumbling on their own feet and squeezing on the doors, they headed for the nearest exit. For some reason (possibly their bearing, or the lightness with which they walked), the girls were spared from being pushed around.

They went down the stairs of the station exit (which Cassy found very friendly, with golden lights hanging from a brick wall, although with autumn coming, it was quite cold, since the station was open from end to end), and were greeted by an irregular path, full of stones covered with greenish slime.

Muddy puddles piled up amidst the holes in the way, and a friendly village shone behind them, smoky chimneys mingling with the fine mist that covered the stars.

They walked together and with identical faces of disgust for a few seconds, before they spotted the man who was leading the students. He looked simply too big to be _allowed_ near children- much more than _eleven_ feet - and so _wild_ \- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins.

He wore worn-out leather clothes, a belt so large it could serve as a collar for a hippogriff, and a black fur coat that, though it was atrocious, Cassy envied, for it was too cold for the thin school clothes. His eyes were bright in the light of the lantern he held, and the black orbs seemed to search desperately for something (or rather, _someone_ ) in the crowd.

His eyes fixed on the young maiden, and they seemed to be filled with happiness, and then, apprehension as he noticed her company. They reverted again to joy, though with a little concern.

The wizard (" _Probably with giant blood ... I have nothing against half-races, but this one was firmly on the side of the Dark Lord in the last war, moreover ... and they are not recognized for their exceptional intelligence_ ") smiled at her, yellowish and rotted teeth. The girl shivered, frightened, as he placed one of his enormous hands on her shoulder.

\- 'Assy, that's the girl! So tall now ... Almos' a woman. When I las' saw yeh, yeh was jus' a baby ... tha' nasty night ... yer parents, a big tragedy ... I've never met a man as...

What he thought of James Potter (assuming it was the man he was going to speak to), we will never know, for at that moment a cold voice came up behind Cassiopeia, pulling the girl gently by the hand away from the older man and entwining his arm with hers.

\- Stay away from my friend, with your _pathetic half-giant_ hands. Can not you see that you're making her uncomfortable? Is your head so big that it is pressing your brain? - Said a familiar blonde, his hand now in her arm to stabilize her.

Pansy, noticing the interaction between the tall man and the young Black, searched Draco desperately for the crowd. Thanks to Merlin, the blonde was waiting for them to embark on one of the weak wooden boats that were to take them to the other shore of Black Lake.

The heiress Parkinson nodded at him, and, seeing the situation the other girl was in, the boy practically marched in fury toward the Keeper of Keys.

\- Not Draco, I think he was only knocked over many times as a kid. Probably from the father, since I have heard that giant mothers abandon their weaker children. Or maybe as he no longer has the permission to use magic, it made him more stupid. - The answer was given by Blaise, equally enraged. He had spent a month communicating with the girl by letters, not so much as Draco, but enough to consider her as one of his friends.

\- Come on, Cassy. Let's not be late for this ... creature. - The brunette girl said, grimacing in disgust. The redhead seemed to regain her composure, and looked up and down at the man.

\- Do not ever touch me again without my permission. If you ever need to talk to me again, you'll do it professionally. I have no interest in your friendship for now, and you will be polite while in my company, if not for me, for my parents.- She cocked her nose and headed for the boats, her friends (and how nice it was finally to have people who would protect her besides her aunt) by her side.

\- Everyone in? - shouted Hagrid after a few minutes, which he passed looking rather embarrassed - Right then - He made a move with a strange pink umbrella - FORWARD!

They sat quickly on the old wood of the boats, and were allowed to be carried away by the magic and the currents of water to the incredible sight that was Hogwarts. The castle where they would live for most of the next seven years was splendid.

Magnificent, sensational, fantastical, fabulous, amazing, whaling, spectacular, extraordinary, phenomenal, admirable are just a few adjectives that could describe the beauty of the place at night, the candlelight of the Great Hall leaving it to dimly illuminate the outside of the walls. Tall towers seemed to interweave with smaller towers, bridges, buildings, staircases, and ... Was it an overpass or an aqueduct?

The water of the lake reflected the pale lights, and the closer they came from the other shore, the more they could hear the laughter of the last pupils descending from the carriages, the louder the footsteps and lively speeches of those who were already sitting down for the first banquet of the year.

Boys in blue ties were mingling with yellow-stocked girls, and a girl coming out of a boat with a green bow pinning back her hair looked ugly at a frightened boy with sandy hair searching for something with the help of a girl with reddish-brown hair.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face.

They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out.

The boys got off the boat first, stabilizing on the slippery banks of the Lake for a few seconds before reaching out to the girls.

Blaise helped young Parkinson, who, slightly unbalanced by the silty stones, wriggled a little, but was held by the taller boy. She put a hand on his left forearm, as it was a tradition of pure blood, and followed him up the stairs to the antechamber of the Great Hall. Draco did the same with the redhead, and she smiled at him, the other hand holding the edges of the robe so that it wouldn't get too dirty.

The two pairs came together in a small group, like many others around them. Many children came from friendly families, or made friends on the train.

They were gathered in groups of three or four, and at least seventy children chatted happily.

The quartets were quietly commenting on their new colleagues. Draco and Pansy knew most of them.

* * *

 

_"- Susan Bones, Amelia Bones' niece, from DMLE... I heard she lived with her uncle, Edgar..."_

_"- They're the most powerful badgers I know. Even my father knows Amelia Bones is fair and dangerous."_

* * *

 

_" - Hannah Abbott, daughter of Giffard Abbott II, an Unspeakable"_

_"- It's a difficult job, and I heard her mother drinks a lot and sleeps around because her husband is never home"_

* * *

_" - Terry Boot, son of Webster Boot III, seeker of Puddlemore United"_

_" - He's getting old, but he already has millions in his account."_

* * *

 

_" - Mandy Brocklehurst, daughter of a very famous Scottish tailor"_

_"- She is awful, a sycophant through and through"_

* * *

 

_"- Millicent Bulstrode, the daughter of a family of purebloods without money"_

_"- She is always after me. I cannot even tolerate her, and her troll of a mother thought we were friends! Like I would ever play one of her eating games."_

_"- You're just sore she won last time"_

_"- She never lost in anything that involve food"_

* * *

 

_"- Crabbe and Goyle, no brains, lots of muscle"_

_"- And more or less Draco's bodyguards"_

* * *

 

_"- Tracey Davis, a half-blood from an ascending influential family"_

_"- She is such a gossip"_

_"- You love her"_

_"- I would love her more if she stop being Daphne's fawner"_

* * *

 

_"- Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass, I've told you about them in the Alley"_

_"- He seems nice enough. She looks like a ponce"_

_"- I love her hair."_

_"- Just because it is suchlike yours"_

* * *

 

They were beginning to comment on Anthony Goldstein, when a cough was heard from the gate. All the voices fell silent, and they turned to the sound. The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there.

She had a very stern face and Cassy's first thought was that _she was not someone she would like to cross_. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, and she wore thin, silver-rimmed glasses.

\- The firs' years, Professor McGonagall - said the idiot giant, from somewhere behind them.

\- Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit a whole house in it, maybe more. Cassy thought that if the castle could have the same expanding spells than her trunk, this place would be difficult to walk through.

The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, if not a bit more warm, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Cassiopeia could hear the drone of hundreds of voices even more loud from a doorway to the right, but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Some of them tried to best their looks, but a lot just looked plain scared.

\- Welcome to Hogwarts - said Professor McGonagall. - The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. - She stopped a minute, and the young Potter could swear the severe-looking teacher was glancing at her all the time.

\- The four houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. - " _From the worst to the best"_ , thought Cassy - Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

\- The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.

Her eyes lingered for a moment on the scrawny boy's with the toad cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Weasley's smudged nose.

Cassy straightened her skirt and the robes, which were slightly fallen to one side, and replaced her black gloves, putting the rings over them. Pansy and she helped each other fix their hair. Soon, they straightened and put the cool masks in place, which was quickly mimicked by Draco and Blaise.

\- I shall return when we are ready for you - said Professor McGonagall. - Please wait quietly.

Some of them would talk in a low voice, wondering how they would be "sorted", and whether it would hurt or not.

The young lady smiled disdainfully. It was obvious that no one had opened a book, and the wizarding parents did not bother to prepare their children.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air, several people behind screamed. Draco laughed briefly, and she glared to him, but it has no heart in it. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall.

Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

\- Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance... - What looked like a fat little monk was saying. She remembered it from her mother's journal.

\- My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost... I say, what are you all doing here? - A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

\- We're about to get sorted, mister. - Cassiopeia answered, smiling to the monk-ghost. A few people nodded mutely, agreeing with her.

\- New students! - said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. - And who are you?

\- Cassiopeia, Mister. - She omitted her surname on purpose, so that the clash between the masses of students would be greater, even though many stared suspiciously at her forehead covered by a lock of hair, and the pure bloods looked at her hands in admiration.

\- It's been a long time since someone from Founder's blood walked these walls. - said the Friar. - Hufflepuff would be great for you. My old house, you know.

\- Move along now - said a sharp voice. - The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. - Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

\- Now, form a line - Professor McGonagall told the first years - And follow me.

Cassy got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Draco behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

She had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place, even after reading all her mother's descriptions and books, but nothing would compare to the real experience. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Cassiopeia looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, where she found her constellation (when she was six, she used to search it everyday).

The young Potter heard the girl with mad hair and squirrel teeth whisper (" _Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."_ ), and heard Draco scowl to the muggle born ( _She had read "Hogwarts, A History" too, but wasn't being a insufferable know-it-all. Maybe that girl would get better with time_.)

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens and above, the stars looked like they were doing a private show just for the students. Falling stars cut the sky in flashes, and Cassy smiled as the rising moon signaled a beginning of a new cycle.

She quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house, and neither would she. But she knew exactly what it would do, so, when the hat twitched, she didn't flinch like some others. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

  
_But don't judge on what you see,_

  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_

  
_A smarter hat than me._

  
_You can keep your bowlers black,_

  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

  
_And I can cap them all._

  
_There's nothing hidden in your head_

  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

  
_So try me on and I will tell you_

  
_Where you ought to be._

  
_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_

  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

  
_Where they are just and loyal,_

  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

  
_And unafraid of toil;_

  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,_

  
_Where those of wit and learning,_

  
_Will always find their kind;_

  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

  
_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

  
_To achieve their ends._

  
_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

  
_And don't get in a flap!_

  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. The song was horrible catchy, and Cassy started to sing it in her mind (and she knew it wouldn't stop for several weeks, as her mind was extremely unhelpful with that).

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

\- When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted - she said. - Abbott, Hannah!

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails, who they were talking about early, stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause after...

\- HUFFLEPUFF!- shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Cassy saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

\- Bones, Susan! - The niece of Amelia and Edgar Bones sat on the stool, more graceful than her friend.

\- HUFFLEPUFF! - shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

\- Boot, Terry!

\- RAVENCLAW!

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

" _Brocklehurst, Mandy_ " went to Ravenclaw too, but " _Brown, Lavender_ " became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Cassy could see the Weasleys twin brothers catcalling.

 _"Bulstrode, Millicent_ " then became a Slytherin. Pansy, behind her, sighed.

\- Looks like I'll have to put up with her for the next seven years.

\- Finch-Fletchley, Justin!

\- HUFFLEPUFF!

Sometimes, Cassy noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to her in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

\- Granger, Hermione!

The insufferable girl almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

\- GRYFFINDOR! - shouted the hat. She smiled. Far, far away from her.

When Neville Longbottom ( _she remembered her godmother was a Longbottom too, maybe that was her son_?), the scrawny boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with him. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR" Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Draco swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

The blonde went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. He winked at Cassy, and she smiled.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" ( _who went to Ravenclaw_ ); "Nott" ( _the hat lingered for about two minutes, before shouting Slytherin_ ); "Parkinson" ( _Pansy joined Draco after twenty seconds_ ); then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" ( _one for Ravenclaw, one for Gryffindor_ ); then "Perks, Sally-Anne" _(a badger_ ) and then, finally...

\- POTTER-BLACK, Cassiopeia

As Cassy stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"- _Potter, did she say?"_

_"- The Cassiopeia Potter?"_

_"- Black? As in Sirius Black?"_

The last thing Cassy saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

\- So ... A Potter, a Black, a Peverell, a Slytherin. Many names ... Courage, yes, but not audacious or defiant, no. You walk in the shadows, your whispers are more dangerous than your fists. - A voice said in her head. She smiled.

\- Smart, but prefers to use the knowledge than to save it. I truly would love to have had the chance to meet your aunt in person.

\- It's reciprocal, I'm sure. She always wanted to be a witch when she was younger. But... where am I going?

\- Anxious, Miss Potter? - said the amused hat

\- Of course, Mr. Hat, if this is your true name.- she answered, cheekily.

\- I was never given another, or the chance to choose one by myself. I'd love to be able to sort you out, Miss Potter. - The girl frowned. What? Could not he put her in a house?

Draco's words (" _You'll be separated from us, poor mortals"_ ) came back to her mind, and she thought briefly about them, before the voice of the Hat came back. - But your blonde friend is right. And I have to follow the school rules.

\- LADY SLYTHERIN - He shouted, and the school, before whispering, was completely silent, while her tie was transforming. Not into the green and silver common tie, but with a serpent crest over it.

She took of the hat, and walked, numb, to the table in the corner. Slytherin then snapped up. Each and everyone of the students stand up and clapped, for the first Lady of Slytherin in over four centuries.

From the teachers table, Dumbledore was a nice shade of violet.

Cassy smiled.

_All was right in the world._  
  
  



	7. Setting up, Knowing More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short because I want to follow canon chronology 
> 
> but it's good, I promise

Cassius Warrington, the oldest Prefect of Slytherin got up and _kissed_ her hand, as a nice shade of carmine coloured her face (she wasn't immune to the effects of older handsome boys, as collected as she seemed to be).

Draco wasn't happy about the older boy's attitude, so he was rather dejected (and it made the other first years snigger at him), even if she sat by his side (what was grant to give him a high popularity, as would be probably happening with Pansy and Blaise, once everybody connect them as friends).

The Weasley twins yelled, calling _unfair_ , even if they looked also a bit dejected ( _especially_ George). Cassy sat down opposite the ghost covered in blood she’d seen earlier.

The ghost also kissed her hand, looking every bit as the England Knight from the 1600 he must have been when alive, giving Cass the sudden, horrible feeling she’d just plunged her fingers into a bucket of ice-cold water.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest she, sat the oaf who behaved so improperly early, who caught her eye, but diverted it quickly in a pitiful tentative of shame. Cassy smirked back at the reaction.

And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold preposterous throne (because it was _anything_ but a chair), sat Albus Dumbledore. Cassy recognized him at once from one of the pictures her aunt showed to advise her about the wizard situation, and who to avoid in it.

Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts, and his clothes were nothing but aghast, a blast of colours, shapes and patterns that gave her a headache almost immediately (Pansy looked pained, and they shared a look of mirth behind Draco's back).

Cassy spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban (it looked like an old cartoonish fortune-teller from one of that old TV shows, and not at all like the teacher of Defense Against The Dark Arts he was _supposed_ to be).

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a dark-skinned boy even taller than Draco, joined the Gryffindors in the table at the other side of the room. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was that stupid, dirty-nose, impolite Weasley’s turn. He was pale greenish by now (and it clashed badly with his hair, hope his is not a Slytherin).

Cassy crossed her fingers under the table for him to go to any neutral houses (she wanted not to confront or to spar verbally, or even physically, who knows, with that stupid dunderhead, and Gryffindors were well known to start fights with Slytherins) and a second later the hat had shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Cassy didn't clap with with the rest, just merely observed, quite like a predator. Since her plaids were not listened, she could just imagine the future meetings of them.

_Well, nobody said she didn't try_

 

As “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin and sat in Pansy's side, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Cassy looked down at her empty gold plate. The young girl had only just realized how hungry she was. The pastries and candies seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

( _besides, maybe, his plans actually getting right and an abused and touch-starved Potter claiming the place of her doppelganger showed up from the wild and went to her place at Gryffindor with all the good,_ light _people who would make her a good,_ sacrificing _hero_ )

“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you!”

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Cassy didn’t, and laughed awkwardly with a few other members of her house.

“Is he — a bit mad?” she asked Draco uncertainly.

“Mad?” said Draco airily. “He’s supposedly a genius, best wizard in the world, bla bla bla. But he is a bag full of cats, that's what my father says. Potatoes, _Lady Slytherin_?”

She gave him a playful shove, before looking at the table again, because she was almost sure it didn't have potatoes before.

Cassy’s mouth almost fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Petunia had never exactly made Cassy follow a diet, but she’d never been allowed to eat as much as she liked. Petunia always stopped her from eating too much or eating anything really greasy. Cassy piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and the greasy food (she would not start gaining weight _now_ ) and began to eat. It was all delicious.

“That does look good,” said the bloody ghost, watching Cassy cut up her steak.

“Can’t you — ?”

What a dumb question. Of course ghosts couldn't eat. They didn't have a stomach in the first place!

“I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Bloody Baron at your service, milady. Resident ghost of Slytherin Dungeons. ”

“I know who you are.” said Draco suddenly. “My father told me about you.”

“So — new Slytherins, I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year?  We have got the cup six years in a row! The Nearly Headless Nick's becoming almost depressed — he’s the Gryffindor ghost. ”

Cassy looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with his head poorly hanging by a muscle, to show to the Gryffindors. He was right next to Weasley who, Cassy was pleased to see, didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

“How did he get nearly headless?” asked Blaise with great interest.

“I’ve never asked,” said Bloody Baron delicately "But it seems to be that they didn't use a good axe"

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding. . .

As Cassy helped herself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

“I’m the youngest of three” whispered Pansy “My dad’s a bussinessman. Mom didn’t tell him she was of a light family ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him, but divorce… Divorce in the wizarding world is complicated.”

The others murmured in agreement. The Parkinsons were well known for being in the dark side of things.

On Cassy’s other side, Warrington and Nott were talking about lessons (“I do hope they start right away, there’s so much to learn, I’m particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it’s supposed to be very difficult — “; “You’ll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing — “).

Cassy, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet, looking every bit the giant he was. Professor McGonagall was talking to Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to Professor Snape, who was as darkish and loomy as ever.

It happened very suddenly. Professor Snape looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Cassy’s eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Cassy’s forehead.

“Ouch!” Cassy almost clapped a hand to her head, but stopped herself.

“What is it?” asked Draco.

“N-nothing. ”

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Cassy had gotten from the teacher’s look — a feeling that he didn’t like Cassy at all, what was strange, since he seemed to like her in the alley.

Cassy watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at her again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.  
“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. ”

Dumbledore’s twinkling meddling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. ”

Cassy laughed, and he wasn't the only on Slytherin who did.

“He’s not serious?” she muttered to Draco "This is a school, for god's sake"

“Must be,” said Warrington, frowning at Dumbledore “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere — the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least. ”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Cassy noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

And the school (except the Slytherin) bellowed:

“ _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

  
_Teach us something please,_

  
_Whether we be old and bald_

  
_Or young with scabby knees,_

  
_Our heads could do with filling_

  
_With some interesting stuff,_

  
_For now they’re bare and full of air,_

  
_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

  
_So teach us things worth knowing,_

  
_Bring back what we’ve forgot, just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_

  
_And learn until our brains all rot. ”_

 

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a _very_ slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

The Slytherin first years followed Warrington through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down the marble staircase who would took them to the dungeons. Cassy’s legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired and full of food.

She was too sleepy even to be amazed seeing the people in the portraits along the corridors whispering and pointing as they passed for the first time, or that twice Warrington led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed down more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Cassy was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Warrington took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at him.

“Peeves,” Warrington whispered to the first years. “A poltergeist. ” He raised his voice, “Peeves — show yourself. ”

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks  
.  
“Oooooooh!” he said, with an evil cackle. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!”

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” barked Warrington.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Crabbe and Goyle’s head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

“You want to watch out for Peeves,” said the prefect, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us prefects, or the teachers, or anyone really. Here we are. ”

At the very end of the corridor there was a slight different pattern of stones, and a snake appeared on them when they looked closer.

“Password?” she said, in a woman's voice.

“ _Toujours Pur_ ” said Warrington, and the wall swung forward to reveal a square hole in the wall. They all passed with grace through it — She and Pansy needed a hand up from the boys, being the smallest of the class— and found themselves in the Slytherin common room, a long, stone room under the Great Lake, with green lighting and elaborate carvings. "The password changes weekly, so pay attention to the board"

"Wait here, Slytherins. Our Head of House will speak to you, about the rules you must follow." Said Lynna, the other prefect.

They sat in the dark green couches, looking at each other in silent respect. Almost measuring one another, an outsider would say.

Their eye confront stopped quickly, once Professor Snape entered the room. He looked every bit the man she met before school, without the dinner's attitude (she was still decoding that one. It was because of Dumbledore?)

"Good Evening, Slytherins."

"Good Evening, Professor Snape"

"I'm here today to explain a few things.

"Firstly, and most important: The other houses don't like us. Friendships between houses shouldn't be looked down, but no outside friend must enter on Slytherin business.

"Secondly, people might don't like us, it doesn't mean that we'll be _mean_ in anyway. Blood slurs are prohibited, inside or outside this room. Bullying will also get you lots with detention with me.

"Thirdly, any fights or rivalry will stay _inside_ this room. Outside, we are an united front, a castle. We defend each other and look out for each other. We also don't get caught. Never. I would hate to have to deduct points of my own house.

"All other costumes and rules, like the grades there are expected from you, you may know by the prefects tomorrow. Mr. Warrington will direct everyone to their beds. Lady Slytherin, a word?"

Warrington directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another, as the girl made her way to the teacher.

He made a gesture to her, meaning to follow him into a office in the corner of the room, where he sat down, and indicated her to do the same.

"Are you full aware of you obligations as Lady Slytherin, Miss Potter?"

She felt ashamed, for a moment. Cassy was very prepared for purebloods and everything that she thought she may encounter, but not for this. Her own title, and she didn't study it.

"No, sir."

He sighed, but sounded resigned instead of annoyed.

"I thought so. I'll give you a book in the matter, but to simplify it, you basically represents Slytherin. You must be an example to all the other Slytherin students. You'll probably be prefect one day. You own everything here, so you can do anything you want: Redecorate, move, change the rooms, etc.

"That doesn't mean you can break curfew or the rules of the school. Just that you have an opinion and voice on everything: Three votes in the Board of Governors, you must be informed of everything that is happening on the school, be on every reunion that involves it, and can also opine in the teachers, and change any of them if you can prove he or she is inappropriate.

"It's a lot of power, so is almost never greated to such young people. But if the goblins found you fitting….

She frowned. It looked like to much. Cassy could be a symbol, she already were one. She could also represent Slytherin. But every reunion? Everything?

"Can I name a liaison?"

The teacher looked confused for a minute, frowning deeply at her before answering.

"….a liaison?"

"A person to represent me, and tell me if I have to take a major decision, but taking the smaller ones for me"

"It could be arranged, yes. Nobody from school, as it's counterproductive, but somebody else, of course."

She took a deep breath, thinking of wizards that she met and wouldn't be drunk in the power. Also people who had the time.

"I wonder if Mrs. Malfoy would be up for the task."

The man almost looked surprised at her choice of representative, but just arched an eyebrow, inquisitive.

"I just think being a liaison wouldn't take much of her time, and she doesn't seems to be a distrustful person. Also, I'll be very occupied being a student to really involve myself in politics before the very necessary."

Snape nodded, agreeing. It wasn't difficult to be a student, per si. It was just a lot. She would have, eventually, to assume her seats in Wizengamot at age fifteen (they were in stand-by for now, as just a Regent could use them in her place, and she was emancipated), but it was wise to lend the work for other people for now.

"I will arrange a meeting between you too until the end of the week, miss. I think this is all. Do you have any doubt?"

"No, sir."

"Well, if you have one you can always come to me, since I'm now a simple guest at your house, as are any of the other Slytherins"

Cassy percept that the man didn't look very brightly at the perspective of living under a child's roof or "being a simple guest", but she could work with that.

"Thanks, sir. I may own Slytherin, but you are still my Professor, and, as such, above any of my power inside this school, as long as I'm an alumni and you are a docent."

He nodded at her, appreciatively. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, before putting the book on her hands.

"Let's go, I'll show you to your new quarters"

She found her room in the the bottom of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in the bottom of the dungeons — and it wasn't the one with five four-posters hung with deep green, velvet curtains, like the others' bedroom.

It was a big room, with walnut floor and a ceiling not unlike the Grand Hall's one, all the constellations here for her to see, the big moon in the middle of it. A huge double window showed the lake's bottom, a couple of magical fish swimming in the other side, while the window on the opposed side was enchanted to show the same view as the Ravenclaw Tower.

The walls were a deep sacramento green, with silver line that seem to form different scenarios at each turn. A beautiful candlestick with twelve supports illuminated the room. There was a white sofa below the window, with grey cushions and a fluffy thin blanket in emerald.

There was also a chest, in a corner, locked with five locks and in a shade of parakeet that was fitting strangely the room.

A king's bed was in the center of this, with four-posters hung with black, thick silk curtains, full of pillows and blankets in all the colours that composed the bedroom.

Two doors took her to the bathroom and a small office-like room, that were equally beautiful and enormous, with a deep bathtub and shelves full of books.

Professor Snape let her at the door of her room, smiling as he listened her gasp of surprise a moment later.

Her trunk had already been brought up, and Kali's cage too. Too tired to do anything else, after a day full of emotions, she pulled on her pajamas and fell into bed.

Perhaps Cassy had eaten a bit too much (and if her aunt discover that, she would be very mad), because she had a very strange dream. She was wearing the Sorting Hat at once, which kept talking to her, telling her he must transfer to Griffyndor at once, because it was her destiny. Cassy told the hat she didn’t want to be in Gryffindor; it got heavier and heavier; she tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Dumbledore, eyes twinkling at her as she struggled with it, telling her it was for the Greater Good — then Dumbledore turned into the dirty-nose boy, Weasley, whose was laughing, mocking at her distraught — there was a burst of green light and Cassy woke, sweating and shaking.

She rolled over and fell asleep again, and when she woke next day, she didn’t remember the dream at all.


	8. One More Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day, new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm revisiting last chapter as soon as possible, but for now, I have this.
> 
> Love all of you, and all the support too.

Cassy woke up early the next day, just before sunrise. The water of the lake shone a little more translucent in a window, while the darkness swallowed the other, the stars beginning to disappear on the horizon. The moon could still be seen, pale and full against the night sky, while Venus illuminated the first rays of dawn that were rising lazily in Scotland.

The red-haired girl yawns, sinking a little deeper into the soft blankets of her new bed. She did not want to leave the heat yet, nor to face the fog that began to wet the meadows around the castle.

After nearly fifteen minutes staring at the horizon sleepily, she rose from the bed, at the same time cursing her past self for forgetting to close the curtains.

She set her feet on the ground, which was surprisingly not cold. Passing through the mirror, she felt for the first time in months the child she really was: Her messy hair was woven around her back, and her long, loose white nightdress made her look like she was out of an old movie.

Her bare feet on the floor only added to the figure of innocence, and Cassy smiled truthfully for the first time since entering the magical world, all the problems forgotten.

Looking at an old clock that she had not noticed the night before, she realized it was still too early, and she could indulge herself with a long bubble bath, to finally try on her new bathroom (the day before she was really tired, but usually did not go to bed without a good shower).

Eventually she fell asleep in the steam of the tub, but woke up as the water began to cool. She dried herself off with one of the fluffy towels that hung on hangers by the sink, and, curled up in one of them with another to prevent her hair from dripping all over the floor, she went to her trunk and took a clean white blouse, as well as underwear and new socks.

Putting on her clean clothes, she went to a hanger that was on the side of the comedy and took the skirt and cardigan worn the day before, as well as the polished black shoes. As soon as she was fully dressed, she went to the mirror and, sitting in the armchair in the room, began to comb her hair with the biggest brush she had, letting it dry in the fake and faint light emanating from one of the windows.

When her hair was almost dry, she braided it in the intricate patterns her aunt had taught her so many years before. It would not be of good reputation to let the hair completely loose, but it should be left down in order to demonstrate its considerable size, and therefore the power that Cassy possessed.

She applied a little makeup, nothing too strong, just a little color on her lips and volume on her lashes. Two small earrings were placed in her ears, and a medallion with the photo of her parents was hanging from her neck.

The beautiful fingers finished in long nails painted light green, adorned by rings of great significance, now tied the tie, already a little nervous. With one last glance at the mirror, Cassy put on her dark green robes and gloves, hanging the leather backpack on her left shoulder before leaving the room to head to the Common Room.

A few minutes later, she was sitting on the emerald couch, leafing absently one of her mother's books, more specifically, the transfiguration one. No one from her year had come down yet, all getting ready (some still asleep). The first to join her was Blaise, whom she had not seen coming until he was practically sitting next to her.

\- Good morning, Lady Slytherin. How are you doing on this surprisingly nice Scottish day? - The dark-skinned boy bowed in a mocking way, kissing her hand.

\- You lot are not going to let me forget this anytime soon, will you? - She sighed briefly as he gave a smirk, which was more than enough answer - Good morning for you too, Heir Zabini. I'm doing very well indeed, and you?

He smiled briefly at her, settling on the couch so he could recline on the plush cushions without pushing her out of it.

\- I'm having a lovely day, especially with this incredible weather. A bit of trouble leaving my new bed, but what more could be asked? We're at the bottom of a lake!

\- Oh, I didn't realised it, Blaise. Thanks for remember! - She said, sarcastic - I don't even felt the freezing morning down here.

\- Aren't we happy and chill today? - She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm

\- Don't be sarcastic, it's better when I do it - Cassy winked, before turning back to her book

\- Oh, but how boring life would be if you didn't have my marvellous presence here - Blaise sighed, his dramatic gestures making her giggle.

\- I think it would be totally awesome - She smiled, teeth bared.

\- You hurt me - He sighed, slowly slipping away from the couch, very un-gentleman like.

\- I'm sure you will live - Cassy rolled her eyes briefly - I wouldn't be so lucky

\- I feel slightly offended by that - The boy huffed, crossing his arms

\- Oh, I'm very, very sorry, Heir Zabini. I'll do whatever it takes to beg for your unachievable pardon - She bowed to him, mockingly, smiling.

\- I bet you will - He smiled at her as she jabbed him weakly on the ribs.

They were still bantering and jabbering at each other when Pansy entered the room, watching amused her two friends.

\- Good morning Blaise, Cassiopeia. - She smiled, fingers holding her backpack close.

\- Good morning - They said in chorus, as Cassiopeia got up to correct the dark-haired girl tie, then looking at Blaise's one and choking - Why no one here seems to do a decent job with a tie?

\- This is why we keep you around for - He grinned at her.

\- Oh, I thought it was because of my title, honest mistake - She deadpanned as he corrected her (perfect) cardigan.

\- If I was you, I'd stop that - She smiled - You know how Draco get vicious when he gets jealous.

\- Draco won't be jealous, Pansy, this is ludicrous. We're not betrothed or something. - Cassy rolled her eyes, before turning back to Blaise - Sit, I don't think our blonde friend will take too long.

The dark-haired girl and the boy shared a glance at her slightly sharp words, but he didn't tone the banter a inch down. If so, he start to get more flirtier at each passed minute.

The redhead seemed oblivious through that, and eventually she got bored, so, while she was talking with them, Cassy read her book, rolling her eyes sometimes at Blaise's antiques.

Draco came up just a few minutes after, just when Blaise was using a quote from a song of Les Miserables (how did Wizard World know about that musical, it was above Cassy's knowledge, but she wasn't going to complain) to do a flirty comment.

\- I dreamed a dream that you were kind - He sighed, rather dramatically - You voice was soft, your words inviting.… Then it all went wrong.

\- Pray tell, darling - She smiled at him - How did you became Fantine through the night, because if so, should I be worried that I'm Jean Valjean?

\- No, you're the depraved man who left me with a daughter all alone in the summer. - He deadpanned.

\- It is autumn, darling. - She patted his head, softly going back to her book.

Draco, entering the room, raised one eyebrow speculating the scene.

\- Good morning Pansy, Cass, Blaise - He stood there, clutching his bag with a bit too much force. He didn't want to be out of the group… He didn't want to be left out of anything.

\- Good morning Draco, we were just waiting for you - Pansy said, and she was interrupted when Cassy practically jump on the blonde boy.

\- Can any of you do a Windsor knot without looking completely dumb? - She started fidgeting with his tie, not making a Windsor, but a Trinity know, as the boy looked a bit peeved by the attention, if the blush in his cheeks said something.

\- Oh, she did that with we too. - Blaise said - I think she don't like the way we knot our ties.

\- It's because you can't do a four-in-hand knot to save your life. And Pansy's Pratt was all wrong. I couldn't leave my best friends walk around like Gryffindors. - Cassy rolled her eyes, straightening Draco's robes. - My clothes don't have a wrinkle, and I was sitting in that couch for at least half an hour.

They laughed a bit at their friend's display. Until they all look properly at Draco, with arched eyebrows.

\- Draco….. - Pansy started, like she just saw the Bloody Baron.

\- Oh my holy Hecate….. - Stated Blaise.

\- Isis save us all…. - Cassy completed - How much hair gel did you use?

\- Just an drop - Draco said, looking at them with a spooked face - Why?

They all exploded laughing at the same time, Blaise's furious laugh being followed by Cassy's small giggles and Pansy's snorts.

\- Draco, go wash your hair in the sink, we'll wait. And don't put gel anymore. Never. Never ever. You looked like a big-head prat.

The boy in question felt his cheeks fill with blood, but went to the bathroom and washed all the gel from his hair, feeling the strands flow free around his face. One look at the mirror proved that his head looked fairly minor.

He came back, just to see the trio still bantering. He felt a little left out, but the feeling didn't last long, as Cassy pulled him lightly by the hand.

\- I didn't wake up early to be the last in breakfast, Draco, so let's go.

They left the safety of their Common Room, to navigate the maze that was Hogwarts. A few wrong turns here and there, a hint from a portrait in the stairs and a lot of people help, they finally reached the Great Hall.

But a thing in the middle of the mess that was Hogwarts didn't change: The whispers.

"Is that Cassiopeia Potter?"

"She defeated Voldemort when she was just one year old!"

"He probably was trying to eliminate competition"

"She is a Slytherin, there wasn't a bad wizard or witch that didn't came from there"

"Worse, she is Lady of them. She might be Voldemort herself"

"Look at the scar!"

"She is alienated by Malfoy"

"She should have better companies than Death Eaters"

"She should be in Gryffindor"

Cassy wasn't even a bit frightened by the gossip pool. If so, it made her beam. Every time they said something bad about her, or her friends, or her house, she would turn and glare coldly to the person. As she was dubbed as "dark, evil and cold", people used to fear her.

And she revealed in the fear.

Her fellow Slytherins looked pretty pleased with the situation too, if their praising looks said something. When they passed her in the hallways, they bowed in a show of respect. In the table, they passed her the best dishes, and were all anxious to talk to her and impresse her. Also, kiss her ring. They did it a lot.

She had them all wrapped around her small finger, and it was just the first day!

Aunt Petunia would be very proud.

But the highlight of the breakfast happened almost in its half. Cassy was enjoying a typical Scottish meal (mutton stuffed with viscera, beans, mushrooms and black pudding) with the accompaniment of normal fruit juice, because the pumpkin juice was totally intolerable, when the Weasley twins made a big show of themselves, getting up from the red and gold table on the other side of the Hall and walking up to the girl, grinning.

The deafening silence that consumed the Grand Hall only made the smile of the two pranksters even bigger.

\- Good morning, milady - Said the taller, that she remembered being called George.

\- Good morning, oh Dark Lady of mine. - Said Fred, the other twin.

She smiled in amusement at the twins' playfulness, letting them both repeat their actions from the day before: Fred kissed her left hand as George kissed the right.

\- Oh, good morning indeed, boys. May I ask how did you sleep?

\- We dreamed, Milady, of the great pranks that would come above the ones that harm you in any way - The commentary didn't seem to be directed to her, but for the rest of the hall.

\- You shouldn't bother - She giggled, blushing a bit - I'm sure I can take good care of myself.

\- But if you can take care of yourself, oh Dark Lady, what are we, your whimpering servants, supposed to do? - Asked George with a suffering sigh.

She laughed again, even if the Hall continued as silent as graveyard.

\- Whimpering servants? Oh, darlings, I would expect a more dashing name from my knights in shining armour.

They started to bow to her, as she turned out of the bench in a very un-lady like manner.

\- We're not worthy! We're not worthy! - She laughed even more hard, a surprise to everyone in the Hall.

People seemed to be enchanted by her laughter, never had listened to it before.

Her friends, never seeing her so carefree, took a moment to absorb the beauty that was her smile. It seems to make the room lighter and brighter.

Some boys looked a bit lovestruck, while the teachers that were in Hogwarts two decades before were reminded of one Lily Potter, with her red and gold robes.

A teacher in special, one Severus Snape, looked as he just saw a ghost, the laugh ringing in his ears like bells. He asked himself how the alive Evans had lived with it.

Asked how could Petunia endure living with the spitting image of Lily, the same eyes, the same hair, drowning each similarity to Potter and revealing in the Black ones.

But it all happened in a fraction of second, so when anyone looked at him, his mask was back, cold and hard, impassive eyes looking at each one of the students (if he was avoiding to make eye contact with the green piercing eyes at his own table, nobody would know better).

Dumbledore for a moment felt grief. He tried and tried to manipulate the life of a girl, a child. She would, someday, if they have luck, save the magical world. But in the end, she was just a child as any other.

He sighed. It was for the Greater Good. Lily Potter died for it, James Potter died for it…. And someday, Cassy Potter would die for it too.

Or God help they all.

The twins had stop their show, and with a kiss on her hand (from Fred) and one on her cheek that made her blush a little bit more (from George), they left her to go back to Gryffindor table, daring anyone to say anything.

\- How come you never told us that you are acquainted, or better, friends with the Weasley twins? - Said Draco, being the first one to shake off the stupor.

\- Met them on the train, before you. It's no one business, dear. - She winked, as the he winced a bit to the pointed jab.

\- Weasleys, Cassy? Seriously? - Said Pansy - They are muggle lovers.

\- And my mom was a muggleborn, my aunt who is like my second mom is a muggle and I was raised as one, your point? - They seem to be without points now, and Pansy looked a bit ashamed.

\- Also, we have electricity, and you depend of your magic for anything - The bushy haired girl from the day before passed behind them, as surprised of her courage as them.

Cassiopeia smiled at the girl. She could lend the other her magical brush, and at least 60% of her problems would be solved. Also, the girl looked as she might need some friends, and trust was a hundred times better than fear.

\- What's you name, sweetheart? - The nicknames weren't a first for the Slytherin first-years, but they were still a bit shocked with the display of affection showed by Cassy.

\- H-Her-Hermione G-Granger…. miss - The other girl stammered, like she was preparing herself to be mocked.

\- I'm Cassiopeia - She didn't say her surname, wasn't necessary - Why aren't you in your table? - She spoke like she was talking with an injured animal.

\- They don't like me - She whispered. The Grand Hall had returned to their loud talking and didn't noticed the small interaction.

\- Why they don't like you? - She remembered the whispers on Middle School. Children are abusive when they want to be.

\- Because my hair is bushy, and my teeth are big, and I like to read, and all they care are frivolous things. - She sniffed a bit, and Cassy wasn't about to let the other girl cry in public.

\- We still have twenty minutes to class, and I'm not hungry. - She smiled - What do you think of a little trip to the ladies room, and I can solve some of your problems with frivolous things while we can debate of the pros and cons of Pride and Prejudice?

Her friends looked once more flabbergasted, but didn't dare to comment on her bold friendships. She was still lady of Slytherin, and her mom was a muggleborn as she was keen in remembering.

\- It would be great…. - They received their timetables in the beginning of the breakfast, and the first class of both of them was Transfiguration, with each other.

\- See you later boys, Pansy. - She winked briefly at them, before picking up her bag of books.

So Cassy got up, and interlacing Hermione's arm with herself's, she guide them both out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. If people found strange that a muggleborn Gryffindor and a almost pureblood Slytherin where walking and chatting together, they didn't do more than whisper quietly.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione's hair was not straight, as her curls here very beautiful indeed, but in a ponytail-like thing, which actually showed her face, and her very pretty eyes. Her clothes here properly now, everything put in ita righteous place, thighs high up and stretched, blouse inside the skirt and sweater (ew) covering everything. Her shoes were properly closed and a black ribbon now kept her hair into place.

They walked as fast as they could to Professor McGonagall's class, sitting in the two only left seats (both in the first line, one in the left side of Parvati Patil and other in the right side of Draco) just a few minutes before the teacher entered the room.

-Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts, - she said. - Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.

She was as strict as Cassy though she was, and when the woman turned, all of sudden, her desk into a pig, the girl decided it was good she was a copy of the late Lily Evans, and that her parents were great friends with the teacher.

The strict looking woman started talking about magic theory. She had some few advanced resumes and mental maps, colour-coded and enumerated inside of delicate looking plastic binders and folders, the ones with too much dividers, but it didn't hurt to copy everything again, everything with a black pen (she was writing too much information, too fast, and would probably mess everything up with ink) over her pretty notebook (she didn't want to spend parchment, and it was rather difficult to organize them).

Her friends were a bit surprised seeing the girl using muggle things, but Pansy was looking contemplative for the materials, comparing them with her ink and the aged parchment. Passing her fingers over the "paper," the girl realized that it fell apart very easily, like dust. The black ink blurred at the slightest touch, making the most beautiful handwriting into a hideous scrawl.

She remembered later asking the other girl to tell her where to buy such useful items.

After explaining the annual curriculum (a lot of theory, but also quite practical) what was expected of each of the students (excellence, homework, punctuality) and how they should exercise tranfigurative magic when in private (apart from other people, never in themselves), the teacher gave each one a match.

Cassy had already read about this exercise, and it did not seem difficult. Following the theory, she imagined the match in her head, and focused her magical energy on her wand, feeling the power run through her mind and focused on the little stick. The girl began by imagining her color changing from brown to gray, from wood to metal.

Gradually, the object changed. It was no longer wood, now it was (at least externally) metal. Now that Cassy had a metal phosphor, she began to try to make him sharp.

At first, she could not make it pointy at all. She started to get slightly irritated after almost a quarter of an hour without any response.

With just under ten minutes left for the teacher to analyze the results, she managed to turn the match into something vaguely resembling a needle: silver, definitely metal and pointed, if not sturdier than a real one.

The teacher rose from her desk, walking vaguely between the chairs.

She did not pay much attention to the gray matches at most Slytherin tables, seeing that they did not even resemble needles. She frowned, however, at the phosphors of Weasley and Longbottom (and also Crabbe and Goyle and Bulstrode), who kept their full appearance as matches.

The strict woman also neglected the slightly metallized matches of Thomas and Finnegan of Gryffindor. She stopped when he arrived at Hermione's desk, taking an appraising look at the needle-phosphor on the girl's table, which, as well as being gray, was extremely pointy.

\- Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for a almost perfect transfiguration. - She praised the girl, who looked as life couldn't be more perfect.

Then, she saw the transfiguration of Cassy.

Her face lit up in a smile, as if Christmas had arrived earlier. An appreciative look crossed the girl, not staring at her scar, but her hair and eyes. McGonagall saw Lily Potter again, sitting in the same spot on the side of a Slytherin boy, with the same smile and the same needle.

Nor was it hard to distinguish the smile on James's side, the same glint in her eyes and the same almost cocky posture that seemed to draw everyone in the room to them like moths into the light.

\- And twenty points to Slytherin, for an excellent work, Miss Potter-Black. - The teacher, with any other student would have conceded only 15 points, but it was difficult to face those eyes again, full of hope and magic.

The girl's surname, as well as the features of her face, her steep nose and arched eyebrows reminded her of another student, one she'd rather forget. She told herself that she was seeing Dorea Black in the child, one of the students in her first class as an interim professor in Hogwarts. A lovely, gifted woman, and the mother of her favorite student.

The class ended shortly after that. The teacher did not distribute more points, not finding other works worthy of those. But she did passed two scrolls to everybody who wasn't Hermione or Cassy (they would probably do it anyway).

As the class ended, Cassy smiled briefly at Hermione.

\- Guess I'll see you in Potions? - She asked, with a kind expression - I've Herbology now.

\- I've Charms. Guess I'll see you later. Maybe we can meet in our free period? - Hermione sounded hopeful, so Cassy nodded.

\- If we have it together, yes, of course. - They waved each other goodbye, as the Slytherin strided down the hallway with the blonde boy by her side.

\- So, Cassy, how much do you actually knows? Because I don't think I know anybody who could transfigurate so fast. - Asked Draco. Blaise and Pansy walked side by side, far ahead, talking with a boy that the girl recognized to be Theodore Nott.

Cassy shook her head, humble. Her hands clutched her bag firmly.

\- I just read my mom's books a lot, and they have a lot of notes and little tips. I prepared myself for Hogwarts since I could walk.

\- Oh, don't sell yourself short. I was born for this, raised like this and even I couldn't do what you and that mud-…. muggleborn did. - The girl decided to forget the slip.

\- I have to say the same for you, though. You're not so bad, and was most ahead of our class. Your match was a little pointy, and it wasn't completely of wood.

\- Not as good as yours, although. - He pouted.

\- If you behave, I can lend you my mother's first year Transfiguration book - Draco scowled briefly, as if thinking about Cassy's mother blood, but the expression was suddenly gone as he remembered the previous class - That means not slipping blood slurs anymore, or looking down at Hermione. I happen to like her very much.

\- Why? - Asked the boy, peeved - You only know her for a hour or so.

\- We became fast friends too, or did you forget? We only met for ten minutes before being engaged in a long string of conversation. - She arched an eyebrow.

\- But you and I, we have a lot in common. I do not see any resemblance between you and Granger, Cassy.

\- Besides we were raised in the Muggle world? Or that we are both very intelligent? Or our identical passion for novels and musicals - She laughed - I also don't see the resemblance.

\- But she's so... wild! And you're so... well-mannered. - He sighed - I can't see it. How can you talk?

\- Oh, Draco dear, don't use fairytale musical modified quotes at me. - He looked confused as she laughed - Don't be jealous, little LeFou. I won't leave you for little Belle.

The blonde boy looked thoroughly confused, but save the questions for later.

\- I am not jealous. Me, jealous of her? This is nonsense. - He scoffed.

Cassy laughed behind one gloved hand.

\- Why are you laughing? It's not funny. - That made her laugh more - You go and make new wild friends and BOOM, goodbye your manners. - That made her sober up quickly. She could feel waves of insecurity coming out of the boy, and it wasn't joke material.

\- Oh, Draco. You were my first friend in the wizarding world. Maybe my first real friend. I would not trade you for even the most beautiful views of paradise. I may not be a hufflepuff, but loyalty is also in the snakes' motto. We stick for each other, remember? - Cassy put a hand in his after-arm, as she did in the Diagon Alley.

\- Shut up, Potter. - He said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, but a hand covered her own.

\- Are you coming or not, lovebirds? The greenhouses will not come to us! - Shouted Pansy, a dozen of feet in front of them.

- If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain - Murmured Cassy, rolling her eyes, but speeding her footsteps slightly nonetheless.

\- Let's go, we wouldn't want to be late on our first class, even if it is Herbology. - He sighed.

\- What is your problem with Herbology, Draco? - She said, rolling her eyes again. The girl was sure they would up stuck in the back of her head. - I think it's a lovely subject.

They stopped walking, in front of the big glass doors that gave access to the first of the greenhouses.

Draco, ever the gentleman, opened the door to her, showing a beautiful collection of flowers and trees, that spread through gardens and flower beds, and vineyards and trellises, that were twining in the beams of the wall and leaving through the holes where the glass wall found the triangular ceiling.

Sunlight seemed to bathe the place, small rainbows infiltrating through the windows, that were arranged so that kaleidoscopic figures formed among the pale wood benches that graced the center of the room.

The whole environment had a friendly, cozy aura. It was like breathing in the fresh air on the first day of spring, or going back into the house after walking through the snow.

\- That's what I don't like. - The blonde boy scowled.

\- What's not to like? Seems perfect to me. - She breathed again, smiling.

\- I do not like dirt. Or dust. Or earth, mud and clay, or sharp roots and poisonous sap, much less manual labor. I do not like fertilizers, either. They smell bad.

\- Why do you like to see only the downside? It is a beautiful place, with beautiful plants full of perfumes and colors. There is so much to learn.

The lesson occurred smoothly. The quartet sat down on one of the benches, and it was, again, more theory than practice. Cassy and Blaise laughed at the horror of their two other friends in putting their hands to use. The faces of disgust and disgust they did were enough to make even the hufflepuffs laugh.

Cassy was excellent on the theoretical side, but she did not fall behind in practice either. She did not have a green thumb or anything of the kind, but she practiced a lot in her aunt's garden.

They used to tend the beds together, watering the roses and tulips together, praising the daisies, silently working on petunias and lilies, with reflective eyes. Sometimes they trimmed the grass or pruned the bushes, picked flowers, or experimented, like planting an avocado seed. The avocado tree would be high any day soon.

The hufflepuffs were clearly better, for they had a certain carefulness that the Slytherins lacked, a care and attention to the plants, as if they were small people.

The first job they were delegated to was simple: Caring for a small sapling of wild roses, which grew wreathed in little sticks stuck in the soft, fertile earth of small round vases.

They should take the plants to their rooms, let them bathe in the sun and remember to water them eventually. The best plant in each house would leave the student responsible for it free of the responsibility of writing a twelve-scroll essay on plant care.

\- This is unfair! Unfair, I say. Cassy has an entire dorm for her! No one is going to sabotage her, not that anyone would have courage with the title she holds. - Said Pansy.

\- Now, dear friend, one has to use everything it has. Are we Slytherins or not? Life is not fair to those full of ambition. - Retorted Cassy.

\- Humpf. You have all the cards! You know enough curses to scare people by the second year, I bet. And sleep alone, with a title that would kill anyone who dared to invade your rooms or sabotage you in any way. - Murmured Draco.

\- I, on the other hand, think I'm going to win this competition. Draco will not need to be sabotaged, he's going to kill the poor plant himself, and then he'll destroy Nott. Crabbe and Goyle are idiots, and the girls will sabotage each other during the night. Cassy is my biggest competitor, but I'm sure that somehow her plan will wither away, being her room farther down the lake, that is, the darkest there is. - Said Blaise to them, with a over confident smirk.

Cassy found it prudent not to tell the boy about the fact that there was an enchanted window that brought fresh air and sunlight directly from outside.

They left the greenhouses, house elves coming to collect the plants and leave them in their respective rooms. They headed back to the castle. They'd have Defense Against the Dark Arts, with the Ravenclaws, now.

There is not much to talk about this class. Cassy's scar throbbed beneath the thin makeup, and the teacher was the synthesis of pathetic. He stammered, rolled, did not know what he was doing there. His tales were nonsense, his techniques, nonsense. There was no practice. What he taught could not be classified as theory.

Cassy was annoyed at the pain in her forehead, then she began to ask increasingly complicated and elaborate questions to the teacher, her eyes half closed, scrutinizing the man.

Two or three ravenclaws quickly understood what she was doing, and giving little nods of acknowledgment as an equal in intelligence, they began to repeat the idea, asking more and more theoretical and advanced things. Her small group did the same.

At the end of the class, the man looked confused, and even a little irritated, to say the least. Even so, he awarded points to all those who asked questions, 1 point per question. One could say that the Slytherin hourglass was much heavier now than before.

They left as they said goodbye to each other, and Cassy had the impression that she had earned the respect of the blue and bronze house.

From there they went to lunch. After lunch there was a free period, then two in a row of Charms. At night, they had astronomy, which only happened Monday and Wednesday.

They had lunch quietly. The twins passed by to congratulate her on what they heard about his class with Quirrel, and Hermione came to show her they had the free period after lunch together.

They would talk, and study. Cassy would tell her everything about Herbology class, which the other girl had not yet had, and Hermione would tell her all about Charms.

Slytherin friends tolerated the Gryffindor girl's presence in silence, though Pansy and Blaise sometimes entered the conversation briefly. Draco still held his frivolous preconceptions, and stood quietly beside the Slytherin Lady, her hand on his arm being the only thing that kept him peaceful.

The free period went smoothly, but very fast. When it was over, the Slytherins rushed to Charms class.

They entered the room before the hufflepuffs, sitting in the front. There were what appeared to be two dozen thick books stacked on the table, with a thin ladder of rope resting on them. The professor, the little Mr. Flitwick, climbed over the books using it. As soon as he balanced himself more or less, he saw his new student sitting on one of the benches.

Cassy had not seen the teacher yet, but as soon as her green eyes spotted him, he fell from the pile of books to the floor in a mess of robes and papers. Her verisimilitude with her deceased mother was unquestionable.

Contrary to what many thought after the incident, he was not surprised or impressed by the lightning-shaped scar that appeared through the strands of red hair. No, it was the dark red hair, the eyes the same color as the summer grass. It was the shape of the face, so much like the girl's wretched godfather. It was the sparkle in her eyes and the smile of her late father. It was the body of Dorea Black Potter, his deceased best friend. It was all of that synthesized into a little girl in dark green robes.

The girl rose from her seat, being the only one to go help the fallen teacher. He thanked her, giving her 10 points. He himself did not know if he had awarded points for similarity to former friends or for help, but no one needed to know that.

The class went quiet. Cassy was great at theory, and was one of the first to make her feather fly, even if a little uncontrolled, seeing she let a little too much power flow through her fingers.

More points for Slytherin. Professor Snape would be pleased. Flitwick ended up giving more points to the snake's house than to his own.

They left the room together, and they went to the edge of the lake, beneath a few trees with thick roots and long branches, which came shading in the late afternoon approaching, to rest. The clock was already set at four o'clock in the afternoon when they left class, and when they approached six they went in for dinner.

They ate without too much haste. The Astronomy class started at eight o'clock, and it was until ten when the curfew began.

The class was applied by a young-looking teacher, Miss Sinistra. The brunette woman was a distant cousin of Blaise, and did not look twice at Cassy's scar. Nor did he focus on the girl's likeness to her mother. What intrigued her most was how much she looked like her former best friend, Sirius Black. As far as she knew, Black would never betray Potter or Evans. But how to trust Black again, after the horrible treason he committed? For all she knew, he could have used the imperious on Lily.

Deciding not to intrude on past and erased matters in history, seeing that the girl would never know her parents, or Black (at least she hoped not), gave her class as always, serious, but with a few jokes to sweeten the mood.

Cassy loved astronomy, but the most dedicated was undoubtedly Draco. Draco knew all the constellations and myths behind them, his mother being a Black before she was married. He counted the stars and knew the cycles of the moon, the spells of the stars and the influence of the planets. Jupiter was clear that night. It was a great day.

The class ended more quickly than they could realize, and before they noticed it, they were following the same monitors to their rooms, and repeating the same sleeping rituals as the day before.

This routine was repeated until Friday, with few variations of order and some classes less or more (history of magic was twenty times better in books than with an old dusty ghost, our protagonist decided).

Then came the Potions class.

 

 

 

 

 


	9. I'm the Queen of the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potions class, time goes by

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the waiting guys, lots of things to do, school is getting in the way, but i'll be in vacancy for at least two weeks and I'm in a writing bender, so I'll probably post at least 3 chapters besides this one.

Voldemort, despite what many meddling old fools claimed, did not despise his past. 

 

He did not see his mother as weak or his father as pathetic for his lack of magic. He saw the reality, told by few people and discovered in the mind of many: His mother had not had love at home, being a woman without a mother in a house of traditional men with little access to money. 

 

His father had been a man raised in the golden cradle of the aristocracy, who desired voluptuous women with full curves and gipsy eyes, oblique and concealed in their manners.

 

The younger Gaunt did not have many of these qualities. She was a short woman, with dry skin stretched over her pointy bones. Slighted by hunger, her once-shiny hair became a curtain of straw. Her eyes no longer shone, her clothes were now just worthless patchwork. With worn leather shoes on her feet, she would get out to seek food and employment in the beautiful mansions of the area, or look for muddy rivers to get water.

 

When Ogden arrested her father and brother, it was only a matter of time. The young woman perfected herself in all the magical areas she could touch, free finally from the pressure and abuse of her relatives. 

 

In one of the mansions where she sometimes supplemented the household with copper coins, a young man lived about the same age as her. 

 

By today's standards, he was not a handsome man. Despite his broad shoulders and long, muscular muscled legs, he was beginning to get fat, leaving him with a triple chin and a protruding belly that required the constant readjustment of his clothes. He had never served in the army, either because of a hunting injury that had left him with a small limp as a young man or through laziness and cowardice.

 

His mother cared for him, not letting even the smallest of stones stand in his way, or any perjury was committed to him. It was not her wish that he married. No, it would be better if he stayed single, forever in her nest. She kept away ambitious girls from the nearby village, or aristocrats from the capital who wished to take her boy away, to academies for debate and political expediency.

 

It was common rumour in the village that the two, mother and son, had an incestuous relationship. Servants of the mansion intensified the gossip, and even if they were in the early twenties, it still felt, as it was the late 1600s.

 

Tom Riddle Sr.'s father was a hardened man. He had fight in the first and second Boer War and grew up in the midst of the American Civil War. Lieutenant Colonel, and almost promoted to Colonel, when he took two shots, in both kneecaps, which made difficult his walk. He retired with all honours and glories, and one day, as a soldier he be buried.

 

The young woman fell in love with the heir of the rich family. He was all she wanted, and a little more. He had money, well mannered (in a rather blurred vision of her), polite (another disillusionment) and refined. He wore the elegance of a lord, even though he was only second in the line of succession to Baronet, and his uncle was still very much alive and healthy.

 

Nevertheless, Merope did not have the qualities we mentioned earlier to attract the young lord, nor those necessary to enchant the old lord. She could not sing or play the piano or the harp, and she had two left feet, therefore not knowing how to waltz. Her knowledge of other languages was rudimentary; she did not know how to use a fan or to sit right. She was a disaster, a house cleaner, a peasant.

 

Young Tom Riddle, now nineteen, was about to get married. No matter how her mother screeched and protested, she could do nothing. His father had decided, the young man was marrying a beautiful viscountess of the capital in four months. The woman had a high title but little money. Five years older than her betrothed, she was an orphan and a widow.

 

Merope, now initiated and more or less versed in potions and charms, was enraged. How could a hen in pompous dresses, a widow who was too old to have strong male heirs, take her true, pure love away from her?

 

She ruminated on this idea for a few days, and searched for almost a week. Two decades ago, a witch in France mastered the love potion, and in one of the books she had bought to study, there was the recipe. 

 

She did not have the money for the ingredients, so she stole from some of the houses where she worked, small things, like silverware and worthless jewellery from the chests of young women, people who lose many things.

 

She bought what she had to buy, and in her mother's old cauldron, she set her fate forever. 

 

Two weeks later, a flu hit more than two-thirds of the Riddle Mansion household. Madame Mary called her to integrate the household, and, taking her son's night wine, mixed the potion with the drink.

 

In the boy's blurred memories, she was an angel of tenderness. The potion highlighted black hair, and there was charm in the eyes that pointed each one in one direction. He saw softness in calloused hands and lustfulness in bony curves covered with grimy patches…

 

Voldemort shook his head. It was not time for daydreaming. He knew the story of his parents very well; in fact, he knew it more than anyone else did in the world. He looked at it like a child look at a fairy tale: The shades of his mother foolishness blending with his father's arrogance, almost a Shakespearean story.

 

Well, no one could say that being in a non-corporeal form did not give him perspective. He reflected a lot: On the past, the future, the Potters. His obsession with the young Cassiopeia was incalculable. How had a baby managed to kill the Dark Lord? A young woman… How much power she had in her small and inexperienced hands?

 

Now, trapped in the head of a pathetic man, that discarded would be as soon as he could regain his body as it once was, he could not do much. He missed hair, legs, arms and a nose. If he found the stone, he would have his old body before being modified by the Dark Arts, his beautiful young body, and could once again begin his saga in search of power. 

 

He could kill the Potter girl, or rather, recruit her. He would always need a replacement for Bellatrix, seeing that the woman had succumbed to madness. Or even more, even if the girl was still young.

 

However, for now, Quirrell's stinking nape would do. It was better than the pines of Albania, anyway.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

While the Dark Lord conceived his evil (and rather creepy) plans, Cassiopeia followed her week without major events.

 

Friday was approaching, and with it the first Potions class with what appeared to be one of Hogwarts's most competent teachers (not that there was much competition with Binns and Quirrell, but the four heads of the Houses seemed to fight tooth and nail by the position, Professor Sinistra wasn't far behind them).

 

Cassy felt a certain closeness with the teacher from day one. He had not spoken directly with her since, but it seemed that he was always there when one of the Stupid Gryffindors, in capital letters, decided to disturb her, or more curious, alienate her from the other Slytherins.

 

The man had a taste for taking points and distributed detentions to the red and gold house as if they were sweets. Sarcasm and depreciation always filled the comments. The Slytherins did not even expect him to back down the hall, laughing before the black robes disappeared from view.

 

She woke up early, with the happy prospect of two lessons of Potions in a row, and followed her normal morning routine, her friends equally excited.

 

The girl paused for a moment to take care of her rosebush, one of the last alive and healthy among the Slytherins in their first year. Pansy's had been poisoned, and she suspected Daphne, so she cut the blonde-haired girl’s plant with the scissors larger than Hagrid's shoe (no one had the guts to ask where she got the object). 

 

It turned out that it was not Daphne who poisoned Pansy's wild roses, but Tracey Davis. She had also detonated Millicent's roses when Pansy's scissors were revealed, making the black-haired girl suffer the other's fury and almost get beat up when Daphne, seeing the poison used to destroy Pansy’s flowers inside Tracey’s trunk, solved the scheme and pointed out the real culprit.

 

The other girls then joined and detonated the girl's rosebush with little resistance. In the end, it was nothing more than a pile of potsherds, earth, roots, prickly branches and petals. 

 

Already in the boys' room, the situation was much more brutal. Crabbe and Goyle threw the pots at each other in a fight. Theo put so many curses around the plant to protect it, that it could not be watered, and then withered and died. 

 

Draco's plant was alive and well (one of the only ones), and hidden somewhere that even Cassy did not know (though he was trying to convince her that they could split the prize if she let him hide his rosebud in her bedroom). Blaise's rosebush was on his bedside table, protected only by a dome. A dome that gave shocks to anyone who touched it, except him.

 

Cassy's wild roses were untouchable, both for obvious reasons, and for her room being isolated and open with a password that only she and Snape knew. Moreover, there was the title she possessed, and the social hierarchy in the house of the serpents was of the highest importance.

 

They did not eat breakfast in the Great Hall. For what? Cassy did well to learn the name of the domestic elves who served the house green and silver. They adored it, whether by title or good manners and the habit of using "please" and "thank you" (an attitude that Draco still had to learn to perform even with other humans).

 

The four of them ate in the Common Room under the envious glances of the other Slytherins, who had to leave their beds earlier to eat, or who would have to descend again after the meal, either because they had a free period or because they had a Potions class.

 

They walked quietly to class, meeting Hermione and Neville at the base of the stairs leading to the dungeons. The girl was excited, but the two lions were very nervous, especially since Snape wasn’t known to be fair to other houses other than his own, and had, as previously said, a grudge against Gryffindor.

 

They entered the room. It was not in itself far from the Slytherin Common Room, but still in a somewhat hidden place, with a few suspicious lanes between one hallway and another. 

 

For a moment, the hand of the girl who lived trembled on Draco's arm. It was surely her imagination to have seen a red English uniform flanked by a green and a yellow, cigarette smoke surrounding them. The Heathers would not be at Hogwarts, right? They were a year older than Cassy, and the redhead had seen them all school year last year.

 

Nevertheless, when she looked again, there was nothing. Neither Heathers, nor coloured dresses, nor sticks of croquet or smoke. It was just a dark, empty hallway, a single wardrobe at the end of it.

 

Draco looked at her with an inquisitive expression, but the cool mask in the girl's eyes had returned, and she gave him a sideways smile. She turned to Pansy, who was distracted for some reason.

 

-  Are you all right, Pans? – The other girl nodded, a bit unsure – You spaced out. Something you want to tell us?

 

\- I ... it's nothing much. We will talk later, okay? – Cassy nodded – Just us girls, after Potions.

 

Cassy nodded again, and didn’t ask more. Pansy seemed very uncomfortable, and they were already close to the double doors of wood. They were already open, but there was no one in the room.

 

They sat in the same order as ever. Draco and Cassy at the first table in the centre row on the left, Pansy and Blaise sat behind them. Hermione sat down on Cassy's right side, Neville on her right side.

 

Theodore sat down on Draco's left side, Tracey on his side. Crabbe and Goyle behind the two, Daphne and Millicent behind Pansy and Blaise. 

 

The Gryffindors began to fill the chairs on the opposite side of the room, the little troupe of idiots (made up of the younger Weasley, a dark-haired boy who liked to blow up his meals, a dark-skinned boy, a blonde girl and the dumb sister of Padma Patil) sitting in the last row of chairs.

 

It was thus two rows of Slytherins on the left side of the room and two rows of Gryffindors on the right.

 

Snape came in a little later. It was as if he was always there, in the shadows, and it crept Cassy a little bit. 

 

Just like Flitwick, he started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Cassy's name. A look of nostalgia seemed to cross, briefly, black eyes, but the usual cold and aloof look was back quickly. He saw Lily in the child, but he could not let it cloud his judgment.

 

\- You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking, - he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. Cassy was entranced - As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death - Cassy hold her breath and she heard Draco gasp at her side - if you are not as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

 

More silence followed this little speech. Cassy and Draco exchanged happy looks with raised eyebrows and curious faces. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

 

\- Weasley! - said Snape suddenly. - What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?

 

Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? This wasn't a question that the first or second chapters of the first yearbook covered. She remembered it, because she thought it was interesting: It was Draught of the Living Death. Cassy glanced at Weasley, who looked as stumped as the other Gryffindors; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

 

A scornful look dominated the professor's face, his lips curled into a sneer.

 

\- Pathetic ... It seems that it is not just the rather poor taste in clothes, and the wonderful ability to multiply that run in your family... - The man drawled, his words dripping venom. – Blood by any chance transmits inability, Weasley?

 

The boy seemed to breathe deeply, and his almost purple face contrasted horribly with his bright red hair in the dim light of the dungeons.

 

He ignored Hermione's hand, which didn't make the girl upset. If anything, made her more determined to answer. 

 

Cassy had to give her a few hints about school: Don't be the smartass that raise your hand when the question is directed to a specific person.

 

\- Let's try again. Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?

 

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat (one more hint: Don't keep insisting with teachers, will just annoy them), and even Cassy struggled to remember what was a bezoar, or where to find it, but it was in fact in her First Year Book for Potions.

 

The answer was in a goat, but she was not about to shout it or be as annoying as her muggleborn friend was being.

 

\- I do not know, sir. 

 

The boy was an idiot. He knew he would be picked because, besides being a Gryffindor, he came from a "blood-traitor" family, and had many brothers who must have annoyed Snape for forever. Moreover, he did not have the brilliant idea of opening a book!

 

\- Did you thought you would not need to open a book before coming, Weasley? Did you relied that I would like one of your brothers enough to tolerate you? - Cassy forced herself to keep looking at the man, who kept growing colder and colder by the minute. 

 

The professor kept ignoring her Gryffindor friend hand in the air. Cassy thought she would not do anything different, if she were in his place: The bushy-haired girl was getting on her nerves, and she wanted nothing more than to push her hand down.

 

\- What is the difference, Weasley, between monkshood and wolfsbane?

 

The question was so simple that it would not even require consultation with a first-year book. Cassy had worked in her aunt's garden: She had aconite, and they studied the plant in herbology class (more or less, it was one of several listed on the curriculum).

 

Just one look at the hateful boy and she knew: He had not even understood the question, the fool. She shook her head in exasperation, and did not even spare a glance at Hermione, seeing that she knew her all too well.

 

"I don't know," said Weasley, rather loudly and a little purple on the face "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her, you old bat?"

 

A few people laughed, but the Slytherin side was in deep silence; Cassy nudged Draco, and after a shared look they both shivered a bit, looking anywhere except to the man in rage. Snape was definitely not pleased, if the scowl in his face said something.

 

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Weasley, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Why aren't you all copying that down?"

 

The man took a moment to compose himself while everyone rushed to get a piece of parchment (Cassy did not even dare use her notebooks and pens in this class, but she would ask if the teacher would mind after class when he was calmer). He looked cruelly at the boy, who seemed to cringe pathetically.

 

\- And minus twenty Gryffindor points, by the derogatory remark and attitude, Weasley. In addition, two detentions, with Professor McGonagall. 

 

Things didn't get any better for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued, to the delight of the Slytherins, that sniggered every single time Snape jabbed at their red and gold classmates.

 

\- I want all of you in pairs, and in order to avoid catastrophic accidents, in this first class, I will not be mixing the classes, a futile effort that the Headmaster deems necessary. - The professor sneered - I particularly prefer to avoid bloodbaths in my classroom. Be aware that you will be immediately punished for any pernicious comment or sabotage.

 

Snape wave his wand at the blackboard, covering it with instructions and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. 

 

He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and stew beetle wings, criticizing the Gryffindors left and right, and praising Cassy and Draco, whom he seemed to like, and curiously, he didn't call the girl Potter or Black, but Miss Slytherin, as if her other names didn't exist. 

 

He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Cassy had crushed her snake fangs when clouds of an ill-looking yellowish smoke with dark pink spots and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. 

 

Cassy's god brother (and oh, wouldn't that talk be awkward, as soon as she gather the courage to it) had somehow managed to melt one of the Dumb Squad cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor in a pinkish, venomous orange colour, burning holes in people's shoes.

 

The girl was very, very happy she put on her black and thick pantyhose instead of thighs or worse, high socks, because her feet where in her chair faster than Draco's, and this was a miracle, seeing that he loved his shoes so much that Cassy would bet she could see her reflection in the over-polished things.

 

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and face.

 

The Professor, who did not look overly fond of Neville, quickly got up, vanishing the completely chemical chaos before it destroyed everybody's hard work.

 

\- Granger, if you are so keen in helping Longbottom cheat, why did not you alerted him? Ten points from Gryffindor, for not helping a housemate in need. - He scowled - Now take him to the infirmary. Unless you like to see him look even more pitiful than normal.

 

Hermione had a killing glare, Cassy decided. Her hair, locked in a beautiful ponytail, only made it worse, as if she was a mighty lioness. It resembled vaguely Professor McGonagall. She caught Neville by the crook of her elbows, which were not that bad, and did as the man said.

 

Even Draco was pitying the Gryffindor, and he didn't like the other blonde the least; a terrible thing, because if someday the chance for courting between Draco and Cassy raised, Neville would be the responsible one, seeing as she didn't had any magic relative left. Her parents dead, her godfather imprisoned her godmother crazy… It would fall to the young boy or to her herself to anything related to that.

 

Cassy ended the potion so quickly; it looked like she had been slacking off during all the process. She bottled it and gave it to the teacher, who raised his eyebrows.

 

 - Are you in any hurry, Miss Slytherin?

 

\- No sir – She would not out Neville as his god brother to the gold and red house until she talked to him – I simply found this potion to be an easy one.

 

\- Are you mocking my class, Miss? – The professor said, eyes only seeing sharp cheekbones under a little of baby fat, rounded eyes and aristocratic posture, so familiar to his tormentor all this years ago.

 

\- In no way sir, I just followed the instructions. It’s quite easy, but that doesn’t make your class a laughing matter. It’s also the first class, is expected that the curriculum will grow harder, sir. – She said, frowning at the teacher’s defensive posture, which was quickly erased.

 

\- Well, in anyway, full marks for you and mister Malfoy. It’s a perfect brew of calming draught. Fifteen points for Slytherin, you’re both dismissed.

 

She curtsied briefly, and left the room, Draco in her heels. She walked with grace, but as they reached the hallway, Cassy‘s steps took some urgency.

 

 - Let’s check on Neville, then go to lunch, I am famine – Draco made a face, but went anyway. Alone time with Cass was rare, indeed.

 

They went to infirmary, talking, arms laced. The hallways almost empty, so they could talk higher and laugh harder, walking leisurely, as nothing in the world could perturb them. Draco told her gossip and tales, and she told him some stories, mostly from musicals.

 

Turns out Neville was mostly fine and sleeping right now. Hermione had already left for lunch, and didn’t bothered in going back to the class. She would have to talk to her about some things, like cheating and helping, and how to not be a annoying smartass even if she was smart, because that just reeked of bad education, and the Wizard World was already pretty racist, they didn’t need arguments.

 

The next weeks passed in similar fashion, until the twentieth day of October, and the preparations for Samhain invading the castle alongside the Halloween muggle day.


End file.
